Exothermia
by kawaiiswag40
Summary: Tweek Tweak and Craig Tucker are smoking buddies. Tweek battles his demons and Craig fights to keep his family together. When everything else burns, they have each other.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This story will deal with substance use/abuse issues as well as boyxboy scenes. Just as a warning.

xxx

_Chapter song: "I'll Believe in Anything," Wolf Parade_

_xxx_

"Dude what are you doing?"

"Nothing," Tweek muttered, averting his eyes, and continuing on under his breath.

_"Turned off the stove, locked the door..."_

"Are you counting?" Craig asked, glancing over his shoulder as Tweek raced after him up the stairs, carrying a bowl of popcorn. "There are fifteen, remember?"

Tweek reached the carpet-covered landing, tried not to chew up his bottom lip.

"No. I have to remind myself out loud that I didn't forget everything. Otherwise I spend twenty minutes running up and down the stairs wondering if the house is burning down or being broken into."

Craig laughed again, harder. _Asshole_.

"Shut up," he said. "You know it makes me paranoid."

"Yeah, I know. Why do you keep doing this if you know?"

Tweek scowled and declined to answer, taking his hot pocket off the plate Craig was carrying and taking a large bite.

Craig settled onto his seat on the couch, still wearing a smirk but also turning his attention to the re-started cartoon.

Truth was, Tweek wouldn't quit this for any reason in the world, even though recently there were more reasons than usual. Tweek needed this- Craig on the right, Tweek on the left, stupid TV and weed- he was starting to think it would be harder to fight those not-great times if it stopped. But lately every time he started thinking too long and forgot to talk he felt self-conscious of the awful silence between them, and sometimes it would just suddenly feel as if they were sitting too close.

"What do you think?" Craig asked several minutes later. "Round two?" He held up a lighter, wearing a sloppy smile. That was the good thing about Craig. He really didn't care if Tweek forgot to say anything for long stretches of time. He never said much himself. Tweek had to smile back.

"Sure. Outside?"

Craig shrugged. "Nah, we can just open the window."

They had both taken two hits off the new bowl when the garage door sounded. Both pairs of eyes rounded in terror.

"What the hell dude?" Tweek hissed. "It four o'clock, I thought you said seven-thirty. Craig?"

Craig was frantically waving his hands towards the window, as if that would help ferry the air out. Tweek let out a squeak, trying hard not to panic. He threw any evidence in the nearest drawer, and grabbed a can of air freshener, spraying it over the room like he was fighting forest fire.

They could hear her steps on the stairs, she was talking angrily to someone on the phone. Tweek grabbed Craig's math textbook and ran to join him at the window, using the flat surface to fan the air.

Craig's eyes lit up when he saw the book and he wrenched it out of Tweek's hands before pulling him back to the couch.

_"What're you-"_

Craig shot him a terrifying glance to shut him up and opened the book. When Tweek tried to stand up, Craig grabbed his wrist and forcefully pulled him back to his side.

"No... No, Kathy I told him five-thirty, I'm sure, but I don't..."

Tweek was full-on panicking. He was high. He was definitely high. So was Craig. And his mother was walking up the stairs for sure. She was going to catch them, and then, and then... He wanted to run, hide, obey the frantic beat of his heart.

He knew Craig could tell what was happening. Craig's hand gripped Tweek's, holding him firmly down on the couch.

Craig lazily half-matched the erratic posture Tweek had assumed, knees bent toward his chest. He held the book between their bodies with his free hand, and hid their joined hands behind the wall of their thighs.

Craig's bedroom door creaked open, just as Craig used his free hand to expose the textbook title to the incoming intruder and Mrs. Tucker stuck her head in.

The phone was tucked against her collarbone. "Craig? You home- there you are." She wore her hair in a messy, faded bun, phone pressed against her collarbone, overloaded purse dangling off the crook of her elbow.

"Hi Mom."

"Studying math?"

"Yes."

"Good boy." She glanced around the room and scrunched up her nose. "Smells awful in here. What is that?"

Craig was still clutching his hand sweatily against his own. Tweek stared unseeingly at some equation on the page between their inches-apart legs.

"Probably my gym clothes."

"God, Craig, that's gross. You have company."

Tweek started laughing nervously, stopped when Craig squeezed his hand. The pressure of his larger hand was somehow calming and terrifying at the same time.

"Are you hungry?" his mom asked, retreating slightly from the room.

"We ate, thanks."

"Okay. Stay good." She smiled and closed the door before loudly resuming her phone call.

Tweek's heart pounded in his chest, echoing in his throat and ears. He didn't have a fucking clue whether it was due to his paranoia or the close call with parental authority or Craig's hand loosening slightly, moving to his wrist.

More clearly and intensely than he had ever before felt anything, he felt the touch of Craig's fingers on his wrist bones, against the quick-thumping beat of his vulnerable pulse. Somebody's knees shifted and the book fell to the floor. Tweek felt electrically frozen to the spot by tension strung tight in the air, ready to burst.

Craig was still staring at the still wood door, listening intently. Tweek's gaze darted over his face, his light freckles, straight eyebrows, dark eyelashes on heavy-lidded eyes. Suddenly he turned his head and was staring at Tweek with unreadable eyes.

"That was close," he said. His voice was warm, close, too close.

"Too close," said Tweek, echoing Craig or his thoughts.

"Yeah," echoed Craig. The subtle, tense lines written across his face were unreadable.

Tweek swallowed- tried to swallow. Craig Tucker was holding his hand, or caressing his wrist, or something, and staring intently into his eyes, their neighboring knees barely touching. It was... intimate. The thought jammed Tweek's heart straight up into his throat.

"I- I have to..." He stood suddenly, breaking the connection. "I have to go," he said, throwing his things into his backpack and walking out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Song: "Eskimo Boy," Strange Talk

xxx

Craig sat on his beat-up couch for a long time, staring off into space at the load screen of his video game. The last thing he needed right now was a close call like that. What would he have done if she'd come home just a few minutes earlier? Or if he hadn't heard her? Not that he would have cared much, seeing as he didn't expect his mom to do anything about it, but it would have scared Tweek off permanently. The needy squeaking of Rosie jerked him out of his reverie.

He walked to her cage, which took up a decent portion of his small room.

"What?" he asked her. "Something you'd like to say?"

She looked up at him and wrinkled her nose.

"I know I'm an idiot," he told her. "But you love me anyway, right?" He scratched her head, and she made happy muffled noises.

He sighed and picked up the plates they'd left behind to wash. Odd- that wasn't like him. Usually Tweek ended up conspicuously cleaning his room or kitchen while Craig wasn't looking.

Inside the kitchen, he glimpsed his mother finish off a glass of wine, phone still pressed to one ear with her shoulder as she shifted through the mail. He cleaned his dishes and started in on the stack from breakfast while she finished her phone call and poured a second glass.

Craig started stacking plates in the dishwasher, and tried to glance at what his mother was reading. He had a bad feeling about the stack of bills. Things had been rough lately since his father was laid off after the mattress factory shut-down, but Craig felt the breath of fresh air at the end of the tunnel had to be coming soon. His dad's new trucking license was due in the mail any day now.

"What's for dinner?" he asked.

She heaved a sigh. "You're a big boy now, Craig. You can figure it out as well as me."

He turned around to flip her off with a soapy hand.

"Save it," she said, smirking. "I need you to pick Ruby up from soccer."

Craig turned the water off.

"But my math homework-"

"I thought you did that already with your friend?" When he didn't answer her, she smirked. "That's what I thought."

"Fine," he grumbled.

Shoving his hat on, Craig grabbed his mom's keys and left. He wasn't that upset, really. He'd never admit it, but he kind of liked picking Ruby up. The driving part, at least. There was always a moment, a few blocks from the soccer fields when the interstate entrance came into view, when Craig imagined just taking it, just driving and driving and never returning to this shitty town. Not that he could. He was stuck, just like his parents, his high school, and the rest of the fat fucks stuck in South Park.

He parked the Subaru at the back of the parking lot, where the other parents would be less likely to notice him. Ruby would see him. He leaned back in the seat, stretching his long legs until Ruby appeared at the window, still flushed, carrying her soccer bag.

She tapped on the window impatiently when the door didn't open. Craig stuck his tongue out at her, trying to hide his smile. She flipped him off but he unlocked the door anyway.

"Asshole," she said, throwing herself into the passenger seat.

"What. I let you in."

"Ha. Right. I'm just lucky you're not busy smoking pot with your butt buddy."

He frowned at her, and pulled onto the main street, cutting off no less than three irate soccer moms hoping to make a left turn.

"Language. Geez."

"So he _is_ your butt buddy then? Cause I called it."

"No- Christ, no. What?" It wasn't his fault that Tweek was the only decent person to hang out with in South Park. He was just lucky he'd realized it before high school disappeared entirely.

"Where did you pick up such foul language."

"You? Dad?"

"Right, well. I don't think those middle school boys are so good for you."

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. Craig smirked. Eighth grade was a good look for her.

"Not sure why else you'd be making so many gay jokes. Or ass jokes. And that language..."

"Okay, whatever," Ruby said. "I can see through you. And when you admit to what's going on up there, I'll admit to last weekend with Michael."

Craig gagged, pretended to vomit. "God, Ruby! Gross."

She laughed maniacally, but made him macaroni for dinner later as penance. Craig watched her, holding Rosie so she could "help."

Much later that night, Craig laid awake staring at his ceiling. He'd woken up in a sweaty mess some twenty minutes ago and now refused to glance at the blinking alarm clock beside his bed, which he knew read something like three AM. He'd had a vivid dream- nightmare- starting out nice enough, if fucking weird, and ending as they usually did in a hazily-imagined monster biting his head off. That wasn't the part that kept him up. The warm, fluttering feeling of Tweek's pulse was now, apparently, haunting his dreams.


	3. Chapter 3

"From Afar," Vance Joy

xxx

What followed was a week of pure agony. Craig was avoiding him. He was sure of it.

All he could keep thinking was that he had to do _something, _had to talk to him, but the sight of his blue hat bobbing up the hallway was enough to set him off in a panic- and really, what would he even say? It wasn't like anything had _actually_ happened- right?

He kept The Incident (as he had started mentally referring to it) locked up under high security alert until it was finally too much to take. He was outside having a smoke for his nerves when Red joined him. The cloying taste of tobacco was clearing his head.

"Greetings," she said, leaning against the wall beside him and pulling out a Marlboro.

Smoking on school grounds was still illegal, as was leaving campus during school hours. Smoking spots were therefore a delicate political structure. The goths had kept the best spot on lockdown since time immemorial, and jocks like Stan and Clyde hid behind their trucks in the parking lot, leaving the corner behind the dumpsters to leftover weirdos like Tweek. Red used to always smoke with the popular kids, until some love-triangle-abortion-rumor drama had put her in bad graces with her friends, albeit temporarily. It had been long enough for her to decide she preferred his company, for this at least. That or she was hiding the extent of her tobacco addiction. Tweek suspected the latter.

Red took one look at him and made a face. "What's wrong with you?"

"What? Ngh- Nothing."

"Sure. Uh huh. Do I need to beat it out of you?" She blew out a stream of bluish smoke.

"I'm fine," he said.

"Just tell me. My lips are sealed." There was a long pause, while Tweek pretended to be immersed in his cigarette. She sighed dramatically.

"It's just- Craig. He's not talking to me, I guess."

"Your stoner buddy? Why?"

Tweek jerked one shoulder up in a shrug. Red's eyes were glued on him. There was nothing she liked more than a solid nugget of gossip, and Tweek knew he was tempting her.

"Doesn't seem like him. He's, like, all you talk about lately. Is there a reason?"

"Well, we did, uh, we kind of- _Ngh." _Tweek grunted in frustration. Red's immobile gaze was too insistent for him to ignore.

"We held hands," he said, words spilling out in a rush. "And maybe, it kind of, sort of- sorta felt like we almost kissed?"

"That's it?" She laughed, throwing her head back. "Oh my god, I thought he'd fucked you for sure, the way you were going on about it."

Tweek made an uncomfortable noise in his throat and sank against the brick wall, taking a long drag on his cigarette.

"Does he know you have a gigantic thing for him?" Red asked.

Tweek choked on the smoke, started coughing. She thumped him on the back.

"Oh my god, just breathe," she said. "He's not here."

"I do _not. _Have a_ thing._"

Red fixed him with him a look, equal parts amused and condescending.

"Ngh- F-fine. _Shut up." _

"Fine. Suit yourself." She gave up on the smoked-down butt of her cigarette and stomped it out in the snow. "Going to class?"

"Sure, yeah."

"So how's Kenny?" he asked as they walked, relishing his chance to wear the shit-eating grin.

"Ugh. We broke up or whatever again." She shrugged and tugged on her backpack straps.

"Oh. I'm sorry." Guilt and embarrassment flooded his stomach. Why did he have to be such a freak? Couldn't even hold a normal conversation properly.

"It's not your fault. He was sleeping with some Junior girl on the side."

"Oh. That- that's shitty of him."

She laughed. "I'd have to agree."

"Are you... okay?" They were stalling just out of sight of the doors. Red seemed to like him fine, and he liked talking to her too, but he was never sure if they were _friends_, in the traditional sense, or if she just liked smoking and gossiping with him when her real friends weren't around.

She smiled thinly. "I'm fine." Tweek nodded. Chances were the two of them would be back together in a week or two anyway. "I'm more worried about you."

Tweek blushed and looked away.

"Just try not to think about it," she said. "It'll go away. I had a crush on Craig once too, I get it. Just talk to him."

He shrugged and tried to smile at her. He knew she was just trying to be helpful. She smiled back and patted him on the head.

Class was fine. Class was great. Craig wasn't in this class. But Tweek was starting to think it would never end. He wanted to be home, away from all the eyes of his high school.

The sweet, merciful bell rang, but Tweek's relief was short lived. Travel periods had recently transformed from the best few minutes to the worst. There was no avoiding Craig then.

Tweek hesitated at his locker, shuffling around his books and papers, checking nervously over his shoulder every few seconds. Craig's locker was directly behind his, which was why they'd started talking. They'd known each other since first grade, but Tweek had never really _hung out_ with them before.

There was only a few feet between them, but a river of students flowed through it. The school was overcrowded, and the Principal had cut the travel period from ten minutes to five, making the class bell a signal for panic and scurrying. Tweek sighed, held his math textbook against his chest, and closed his locker, turning- no, quickly scuttling backwards as a blonde girl whipped past him, shoving her way through a slow-walking couple. Tweek shook his head, and caught eye contact with Token across the hallway. He wore a wide, excited smile. Craig stood in front of his own locker, slouching in the way he did, watching Token talk with his signature disinterested expression.

Token waved him over again with an agitated motion, rolling his eyes. Tweek let out a muffled sqeak and ran across.

"My parents are gone tonight, mate," Token was saying. He'd been trying to subtly incorporate British slang into his speech ever since his six month study abroad in London last year. Tweek knew it drove Craig insane, though he'd never said so. He loved Token too much to ruin something he liked.

"Oh," said Tweek, eyes flicking to Craig's face for a moment. Craig was staring into space. Tweek coughed. "Nice," he said.

Token's parents left their only son home alone overnight several times a year. If his parents were only gone for an evening, he'd usually invite over Clyde and Craig- and now, apparently, Tweek- for drinking and video games. If it was an extended trip leaving time for damage control, he invited half their graduating class.

"Tweek, you're coming right?" Token stared at him expectantly.

"What? Oh- Uh- I'm not sure." Would it be a normal night or a blow-out? He honestly wasn't sure which was worse. He desperately wanted to get drunk, but the prospect of a long, drunk night in a room with Craig- worse, a Craig that was acting weird towards him and making him feel like a giant awkward chicken- filled his stomach with Jell-o.

"You have to come," Token said. "This party's gonna be epic."

_Fuck. _Tweek shook his head, searching for an excuse. "No, I have to- I can't..."

"What? What's your excuse?" Clyde asked, joining them. "You have ten seconds," he said, tearing a bite off the sandwich he was carrying.

"I well, you know, my, uhh..." His eyes flicked from Clyde to Craig's flat, silent eyes again, back to Token. "My mom, I mean I have to..."

"Three... Two... And... one," interrupted Clyde, still chewing but tapping his wrist where a watch would be. Bits of lettuce flew everywhere. "Come on man, we won't have any fun without you."

Tweek laughed nervously. "'Kay, I'll go," he said.

Token clapped him on the shoulders. "I'll pick you up around seven," he said. Tweek nodded, realized he was nodding too much, stopped.

He watched Clyde and Token wander off to class, then headed for the boy's bathroom. Clammy, nervous sweat filmed his palms, and he still felt shaky from the stress of Token pressuring him into the party. Tweek beelined for a sink, turned on the water, and heaved a sigh.

The door banged open again, and Tweek jumped. It was Craig.

He tried to ignore him. Turned back to the sink and put his hands under. His eyes flicked to the mirror, watching Craig stalk up the line of stalls and bang each door open. Seeing all four were empty, the walked back to the door, and shoved the wooden door stop under the door with his foot. He turned around to face the back of Tweek's head, but didn't move any closer. He kept his hands in the pockets of his oversized navy hoodie.

"Uh, I think that's the wrong side," Tweek said.

Craig shrugged.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Well, I needed to talk to you. And you always go wash your hands after stressful social interaction," he said. "It's one of your quirks or whatever. Though I thought we weren't so bad to talk to anymore."

Tweek shrugged, still not facing Craig, watching him from the mirror. He gave up, pumped soap into his hand twice and started lathering.

"Not usually," he said.

"So, umm... About the other day." Craig started, staring at the wall.

Tweek rinsed, looking in the mirror again to look at Craig's face.

"Uh huh?" He tried to act casual, tried to ignore that his face was flaming up.

Craig picked at his fraying jacket sleeve. "I think it worked, you know. That or my mom just doesn't care enough to bust my ass."

Something about the way he talked without looking up from his jacket made Tweek feel squishy. The subcontext neither of them wanted to acknowledge hung around their heads like the slime sticking to the bathroom walls. They'd held hands. It was weird. But neither of them wanted it to be weird.

"So, tonight?" Craig said.

"Yeah, I might just skip. I dunno." Tweek's voice was small, and his hands were clean, and he was just needlessly rinsing and scrubbing now.

"No, you should come."

Tweek nodded. Shut off the water and plied at the plastic paper towel dispenser with his elbow, rubbed his hands dry.

"So you'll show up, right?" Craig asked, finally looking at Tweek as he turned away from the sink.

"Sure."

"And you're gonna save your first shot for me?"

This question stopped Tweek short. He wanted alcohol. And he wanted Craig. But from past experience, he knew alcohol and Craig tended to be a potent combination. At this point, the bell for class had long since rung and they were both late, and neither of them had time for Tweek's stupid head games.

"No?"

"Don't be lame, Tweek."

He hesitated, unsure what to say. New worries occurred to him. What if the party was crashed by the police? What if his parents found out? What if he got too drunk and said something stupid? What if-

"Please, for me? Clyde won't be any fun, he's gonna be busy sucking face with Bebe all night."

"I want to, I just-"

"Tell your parents its a sleepover. If you panic with the crowd we can just walk to my house. It's not that far."

Tweek sucked in a deep breath, held it in. "Okay," he said, exhaling the breath and giving in to temptation.

"Good." Craig smiled, this brief, strange kind of thing that made Tweek's heart seize up in his chest. He noticed Craig had a dimple on the left side.

Craig toed the stopper out of the door and stepped away.

An irate ninth grader slammed the door open as soon as the stopper was gone.

"What the hell man?" he snapped.

Craig laughed, and left with Tweek down the deserted hallway.

Tweek bounced in his seat in class. His teacher hadn't given him a late slip, fortunately. He understood Tweek, and usually let a few incidents slide. He felt bad for abusing his trust, but it couldn't be helped now.

Time seemed to adjust its pace just to fuck with Tweek's head. The first twenty minutes dragged by as he mentally retraced his logical arguments _against _joining tonight, but just as he'd decided that _that was it _and he wouldn't go after all- they couldn't make him- time sped up again and panic set in that he'd make them angry enough to stop talking to him, or they'd think he was lame and that'd be it for his social career, and after all the promise of seeing Craig was too strong, and he'd said he _wanted _him to go..

Tweek slumped in his seat, held his head in his hands. He tangled his fingers in his hair, tugging at it anxiously. Red was right. He had a thing for Craig. A big ol' fat _thing_. And Craig had no idea- if any god out there existed and was merciful, Craig had no idea. And Tweek intended to keep it that way.


	4. Chapter 4

"Atari," Lucky Boys Confusion

xxx

Craig held open his backpack, sitting alone in his room on his couch. Most of the time, Craig felt like alone in his room is where he was meant to be. The couch he'd dragged home with help from Tweek, Token, and Clyde after seeing it on the side of the road with a _Free _sign just fit underneath his bunked twin bed. His room was small, a reconstructed attic with walls that were painted a grey kind of blue and sloped in the back with the roof. Faded posters and magazine clippings covered his walls, mostly of metal and grunge bands, but also a Walking Dead poster he'd sprung twenty bucks for— definitely not so that he could fall asleep staring at Darryl.

Rosie in the corner, diffusing the not-unpleasant scent of cedar chip bedding through the air. Piles of Stephen King novels, with a special spot for the Dark Tower series, vintage kung-fu movies and nature documentaries he found in local video stores before they went out of business. Assorted piles of laundry, one for mostly-cleans, one for maybe-cleans, one for definitely-not-cleans. Flannel shirts, faded jeans and his eternal navy hoodie.

He had the radio up, and was ignoring the situation downstairs. He wanted to smoke, but didn't dare risk it. Soon enough he'd escape to Token's. It was a Friday night, and Craig felt reckless. He'd already packed up the essentials into his backpack, and now it was just a matter of killing time.

He had a movie on, and it was doing a decent job of distracting him. Maybe a bit too well. The main character was standing in a symbolically dingy hotel room half-dressed, staring forlornly out the window, a tousled up woman waiting for him in the bed. The camera focused on his well-cut abs and angular jawline, and as he crawled over the woman with pitch black bedroom eyes— yes, Craig was feeling rather too distracted.

Ignoring the guilty sense of shame, Craig reached for the zipper of his pants and snuck his hand down inside. He slouched down on the couch, tugging his pants down slightly, grasping himself with an exhale.

He cleared his mind and relaxed, closing his eyes after a minute or two. He felt vaguely bad for how many times he'd done this on this couch, since Tweek would probably flip out if he knew. Germs, sweat, STDs— not that Craig had any. Regardless, Tweek would never come over to smoke again, which would be a shame since he looked so cute with heavy red half-lidded eyes…

Craig felt his cock jerk to full attention at the thought of Tweek Tweak, Tweek on this couch, maybe a little naked or sweaty, or…

Craig swore and practically leapt off the couch, startling Rosie out of her slumber. That had not just happened. Nope. People had weird intrusive thoughts while jerking it all the time, right? It was just a part of your brain chemistry, like anything is hot when you're horny. That was it, that had to be it.

All of it, the end of it.

He went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face.

From downstairs, a sudden crash and increased shouting caught Craig's attention.

He flung his backpack over a shoulder and hurried downstairs to see what had happened.

His mother stood in the middle of the living room, sobbing. A smashed lamp lay on the floor.

"What happened?" he asked. His father stood in the doorway, glowering.

"I don't know. Why don't you ask your mother? If you can get a clear answer out of her."

Anger flushed her face.

"You just _shuddup,_ I fucking tripped, that's all," she said, half-sobbing the barely intelligible sentence.

"She's drunk," he said, voice low and angry. "Can you fucking believe that?"

Craig stood in the doorway, said nothing. The answer was yes, yes he could fucking believe that.

"Where's Ruby?" he asked.

"Did you even pick up my suit today?"

"No, I told you-"

"How could you fucking-"

"...Barely even a suit, that worn out piece of shit..."

His question had been ignored. Great. He asked again, louder, voice still a guarded monotone. Displaying any sort of god damn emotion in this house made you a target.

"She's at a friend's tonight, I think," his mother finally answered.

"Can you even keep track of your own fucking kids?"

"Don't you dare..."

"Great. Hey. I'm leaving," Craig said. He made for the door.

"Get back here. Where are you going?" his father's face had gone from red to purple. It clashed awfully with his hair.

Craig shrugged. "I'll be back. Don't I always come back?"

His father glared and said nothing, but his face lightened a few shades.

"Fine."

Craig flipped both of them off, and they returned the favor.

He trudged through the late autumn snow, kicking at it with his worn-in combat boots. He fumbled for his phone in the pocket of his jeans. The backpack slid down his shoulder, hit his elbow and tried to flop off. Shoving it back up, he fished out his phone and texted Token:

_Fucking walking. Don't need a ride. _

He zipped his phone back into his bag. The zipper stuck. He swore at it, but it refused to budge.

_Fuck it, fine, _Craig thought, giving up entirely. He had rolled a few joints yesterday, and grabbed the first now. It it was a wrinkled piece of shit, but it'd have to do. He beelined for the park by his house, away from the streetlights, and a roundabout path to Token's house. He flicked his lighter— stupid fucking thing wouldn't go.

He stopped his frenzied walking for a minute, cupping his hand over the end to get it to light. He swore again, impatient. His fucking hands were shaking again.

Craig inhaled deep, started walking again. The dusty lighting of the park calmed him down.

By the time he reached Token's house, the party was well underway and Craig was in a much better state of mind. He could see the Black house at the top of the hill, lights flashing through the windows, dim music and voices drifting through the otherwise quiet neighborhood. He wove through the parked cars and loitering teens, climbing the porch stairs and nodding hello to a few guys who waved at him. He entered the house, scanned the entryway and living room for friendly faces and, finding none, wove through to the kitchen.

"Craig!" Token noticed him as soon as he stepped into sight. He was standing by the counter, their make-shift bar covered with cheap alcohol, Natalie close by his side. Token pushed aside a few of their classmates to wrap him in an unnecessary hug.

"You can feel free to let go," he said. "Whenever convenient."

"Never ever," Token said. He was a bubbly drunk. Thankfully though, he let go. "Looks like you've started without us."

Craig smiled stupidly at his friend in reply.

"God, you're an utter fuck-head, you know."

"Yeah I know, but I'm a fuck-head who brought you pot."

Token clapped his hands together like a thirteen year old girl being promised a trip to the mall.

"Yeah, better be grateful, bitch," Craig said, smirking. He pulled the package out of his backpack, handing over everything but his personal stash.

Token pulled out a wad of cash from his back pocket. Craig knew it was too much for what he was handing Token, but so did Token.

"Thanks," Craig said.

"No, thank _you_," Token said. "My own personal drug dealer."

Craig scowled at him. He wasn't a god damn drug dealer. You get your fucking friend fucking weed once and they think you're a drug dealer. The things Craig did for love.

"Whatever, you drunkard. You owe me vodka."

Token laughed. "You're right. Come on."

He made for the line-up of bottles, but Craig grabbed his shoulder.

"Where's Tweek?" That twitchy bastard had better not've bitched out on him.

"I think he went upstairs."

The cat. Of course.

"I'll just be right back."

He left before Token could ask why or stop him, taking the stairs two at a time to a guest bedroom. Tweek and Butters were the only two in there, and Butters had Clifford in his lap.

"Such a nice boy, Mister Kitty," Butters was telling the cat, rubbing its appreciative head. Tweek was watching. He wasn't good with animals- they made him nervous- but checking on the cat was always a good excuse to escape the noise and chaos downstairs.

"Are you ready?" Craig asked, announcing his presence. Tweek jerked his head up.

"Sure." Craig realized Tweek had been up here waiting for him, hadn't started drinking yet even.

"So what'll it be first?" Token asked, once they were back in the kitchen. Even in that brief time, Token and company had become appreciatively drunker, and Kevin Stoley had shown up with a keg. "Tequila, rum, vodka..."

"Come on, like you really have to ask?" Craig poured two glasses of orange juice for Tweek and himself. Token smirked and held up a finger indicating for him to wait. Out of his cabinet, he pulled an unopened bottle of Smirnoff. It was Craig's favorite. Simple, harsh, effective.

"This one is for the two of you," he told Craig, pressing it into his hands.

Craig couldn't suppress the first smile cracking his face that night as he took it.

The three of them thew back matching mouthfuls, and an instant later thew matching faces.

"God- why?" Tweek sputtered, coughing.

Craig laughed at his spastic reaction. Token, recalled by his girlfriend to the rest of the party, left them with a wink. "Come on," Craig said. "You and me Tweek, we're going for three. Right now. Let's go." He bounced on his toes

"Are you nuts?"

"No, but I'm getting there. Come on."

Craig poured them both a second round, and they threw them back just in time for a giggling Bebe and Clyde to join them. They were flushed and beaming, both clearly drunk, and probably post semi-secret car sex. Bebe squealed at the sight of them.

"Mates!"

Most everybody in the room echoed her enthusiastically.

"Who the fuck died and made you queen?" Craig asked.

"Fuck you, I did. Token said I could be matchmaker tonight. Besides, its only fair. I was matched to Kenny last time. Guy's a fucking fish."

Craig rolled his eyes, but allowed her to dig out matching blue friendship bracelets from Clyde's front jeans pocket. Her own purple dress was form fitting and pocketless.

"Mates" was a dumb drinking game that Token had established at his house. A matchmaker assigned you a "mate" for the night, meaning that you had to match that person drink-for-drink. One just had to hope their partner had reasonable judgement.

Craig shifted his gaze to Tweek, who was intently watching Bebe tie the bracelet to his wrist and shaking slightly. Unfortunately for him, Craig's judgement was feeling particularly poor that night.

"What?" Tweek asked, snapping his eyes up to Craig. His right eye twitched.

"This is gonna suck for you," Craig said, laughing.

Tweek scowled, looked down at the secured band, and groaned characteristically.

The night progressed like a speeding train to hell. They started with a few games of cards that fell apart as more people arrived and the players grew progressively less coherent.

Ten PM found him sitting in a circle with a beer playing a seemingly endless game of Never Have I Ever. He'd already had to drink the last three turns, and was determined to come up with something decent.

"Okay," Craig started. "Never have I ever _done it_. Drink up, you sluts."

"Never would've seen that one coming," somebody commented sarcastically.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he snapped.

"It's because you're fuckin' asexual, Craig," Kenny said.

"Excuse me?"

Kenny was busy laughing.

"Well, I mean it's kind of true isn't it? In the entire time I've known you, you've had what- one crush? On Wendy, back in seventh grade?" Token said.

Craig flushed a dark shade of red. The laugher wasn't helping anything.

"You're all assholes."

"Don't listen to them," Clyde said to Craig, but he was already not listening.

"I'm going out for a bit," he announced, draining his beer. "Tweek, mate of mine, gonna go with me?"

"Oh jeezus yes."

"Don't let my neighbors see you!" Token called.

The quiet calm outdoors was jarring after the overheated living room. Craig walked a distance down Token's hill, in truth not particularly caring if the neighbors saw. There was a hum of insects in the distance, a crunchy layer of frost on the grass, and a few bright stars scattered above.

"I don't really like that game," Tweek said, while Craig started the joint.

"Why?"

"I've never done anything."

"Isn't that the point? Then you don't have to drink."

"Isn't the point to drink though?"

"I guess that's true."

He held it in his lungs until fire filled his chest. The smoke curled blue and gray in the sky. Craig was absorbed by the patterns as they formed, disappeared, formed off the end of the joint and from his lungs. They seemed almost meaningful, if he could just figure it out. They both sat, and Craig passed the joint.

He watched Tweek, watched the smoke curl around his face, the wind blowing his fucked up hair to the wrong side of his head.

"You're kinda pretty."

Tweek looked up at him in bewilderment. A sudden cloud of smoke appeared as he coughed out a question.

"What?"

Craig shrugged. "I dunno. Like objectively. You've got blue eyes and freckles and shit. Like, you've got that Aryan thing going on." He took a deep hit.

"Are you saying I'm a nazi?"

"No. Just that, like, I dunno. Hitler would've totally had the hots for you."

"Oh my god Craig, you're drunk."

He shrugged. Tweek was probably right, he couldn't feel his face so well and the weed was doing weird things to his senses. They were sitting on the lawn, and he couldn't get over how he'd never noticed how strange the frosty grass felt.

They went back inside, and Tweek was instantly dragged away by Red.

Craig grabbed another beer and joined Clyde by the wall, collapsing his weight back against the wall.

"Bebe ran off with Wendy," he said.

"I figured. How're things... with that?"

He laughed. "Pretty great. What about you, ladies lining up yet?"

Craig laughed and shrugged. "Yeah, all the bitches are dying to get with the loser who always reeks like pot."

"I dunno, I overheard Annie and Red admiring your gauges and eyebrow piercing."

"Great, I'll pass along the compliments to Kevin's friend."

"Oh come on, I thought it'd make you feel better."

"No, it's fine."

"So who you got the hots for?"

Craig shrugged.

"Surely there's someone," Clyde pressed.

"Well. I had a pretty weird sex dream the other night, if that counts."

"Was it hot?"

"It was... unexpected."

"Unexpected? How so?"

"I dunno." He knew Clyde that knew he was lying, and already regretted mentioning it. Stupid alcohol. He took a drink from his cup, scanning the room for a distraction.

"Was it... about something in particular? Some_one _in particular?"

"Maybe."

"Is it someone I know?"

"This isn't twenty fucking questions. You're always sharing your nasty sex shit with me, fuck me for reciprocating for once."

"Okay," Clyde said, nodding. "So definitely somebody I know then."

Craig glowered and cursed him again under his breath.

"Somebody unexpected. Who I know." He paused, pretended to be thinking hard.

"Henrietta?"

Craig stood up. "Okay. Fuck you."

Clyde ran after him, laughing. "I'm sorry! Come back!" Craig rolled his eyes, but let Clyde catch ahold of his shoulder. "Okay, we can drop it. But it sounds like I know what you need."

"What."

"Shots. Liquid courage to approach your mystery dream partner."

More like liquid stupidity to pretend like nothing had ever happened. Still, Clyde wasn't wrong.

"Fine."

Clyde cheered, and led him into the kitchen. They pushed through the crowd, stepping around a nearly-unified Kenny-Red limb-cloud to reclaim the tequila. Craig hated tequila- couldn't stand the stuff. It was viscous. Even that word put him off a little. _Viscous. Vis... cous. _That, and it made him hornier than a jackrabbit in hell. But it made Clyde happy, so he'd put up with it.

Red spied them from her position pressed between the doorway and Kenny.

"Hey- wait!" she said, tearing her mouth off of Kenny's. Craig flipped her off.

She scrambled to the fridge, pushing a few scared-looking freshmen. She emerged victorious with three limes. Clyde laughed. Red worked at Park County Grocery with Craig, and Craig had a strong suspicion those limes had "fallen" off of the packing crate. She always thought of little things like that. Craig certainly wouldn't have- chaser was even an afterthought for him. He kind of liked that burning-death vodka feeling.

Craig was a little hazy on the transitionary details, but the next thing he knew he was standing in a circle with Clyde, Bebe, Red, Kenny, Cartman, who had probably invited himself, Kyle, who had probably tried to stop him, Henrietta of all people, and a nearly empty bottle of tequila. The appropriate number of tequila shots stood ready.

"Wait!" Craig shouted, nearly slamming down his shot glass. "I need to find Tweek."

"What the fuck?"

"Oh, come on."

"Why?"

"No, you don't understand," Craig said, holding up his wrist, where Bebe's friendship bracelet was still tied. "We're mates."

There were still a few groans, but most of the circle solemnly set down their shots while Craig ran off in search of the twitchy blonde. Mates were sacred.

He returned, Clyde jimmied the circle so that Craig was next to Henrietta- winking like the obnoxious prick he was- and _finally _they all drank. Craig nearly choked on it, and was grateful for his lime slice.

Suddenly, the volume from the stereo in the next room jumped, nearly vibrating the china locked away in Token's cabinets.

Red was standing next to Tweek, and grabbed his wrist when the song changed, dragging him off to dance.

Henrietta asked him something he couldn't hear over the music. He stared at her, squinting to try to get his vision to stop doing whatever it was doing, and nodded. She smirked, and grabbed his wrist as well. Apparently he had agreed to dance as well.

He stared back at Clyde with a horrified expression, silently begging his best friend to save him. The asshole just laughed and flashed him a thumbs-up. But Craig's head was swimming, and he was feeling sufficiently stupid, and usually he kinda hated drunk crowds, but he'd had enough to drink that dancing actually sounded kind of _great. _

Not that he was any good at it. Not that he cared.

A few songs later, he flipped around the curvy goth girl and pulled her back to his chest lightly. She took to the suggestion like a fish to water, which was great, because now Craig could forget about her for a second. He scanned the crowd for Tweek, hoping Red hadn't molested him too much.

Red was grinding on Tweek's butt, making an obscene face and laughing her ass off. So much for the molesting- Tweek didn't seem to be minding it. He was laughing, holding on to his knees for support, hair sweaty and unruly, face shining. Something in Craig's stomach swooped, and the vague feeling from his dream gripped him again. He swallowed, and realized he'd stopped pretending to grind on Henrietta.

She was scowling at him. It wasn't a good look.

"Are you even into this?"

"Oh, uh, sorry. Yeah. Well, no. I mean, I'm not like trying to fuck you."

She rolled her eyes- "Obviously," - and wandered off.

Air. Craig needed air.


	5. Chapter 5

"Millions," Gerard Way

xxx

Tweek collapsed on a blissfully open spot on Token's couch. Red glared at him, annoyed at her dance parter's betrayal.

"I'm beat," he panted. They'd been dancing for hours, surely. The drinks were making it hard to tell.

"Well at least scootch over," she said. Tweek peeked down at the four other people crammed on the cough, glanced back up at Red, and pulled her down into his lap. She laughed, and pretended to swat him off and stand up. Tweek wrapped his arms around her waist and she collapsed back against him, body giving in to exhaustion.

They caught their breath and cuddled, giggling occasionally when Tweek nuzzled the back of her shoulder.

"What time is it?" Tweek asked.

"Don't you have your phone?"

"You're sitting on it."

Red sighed and dug out her phone. "It's almost one."

Tweek noticed the living room was starting to air out. Where was Craig? He'd last seen him... he wasn't sure how long ago.

As if the universe knew what he was thinking, his phone buzzed with a text message. He wiggled Red around to retrieve it. She peeked at his screen and whisper-shouted, _"Is it Craig?"_

Tweek sighed as she read the message before he could answer.

_Just slammed a beer… Better match me brokowski. _

Tweek wasn't thrilled that Craig was still drinking somewhere out there without him. It was that time of night where he was ten times more likely to be wandering around outside. He could be halfway to Kansas by now if he started drunk hitch hiking.

Because Craig would.

"Well? Gonna go get another?" Red asked, holding back a giggle and trying to look serious. Trying not to tease him too much. Before he could think of an answer, Kenny interrupted them.

"Hey. Get'cher hands off m'woman," he said, stumbling into the room.

Red grinned from ear to ear and perked up, but Tweek wrapped his hands around her possessively.

"So you think she's your woman again, do you?"

_"Tweek!" _Red said, shocked. Apparently she hadn't told too many others about what had gone down between them.

"Oh god, you're cute when you're possessive, but please don't," she said. "You don't have to protect me."

She was threatening to laugh again. She was a giggly drunk.

Tweek sighed, but slid Red off his lap and stood up.

"I better go," he said.

"You don't have to," she said, taking Kenny's hand. Kenny grinned sloppily back at her.

"No, its fine."

"Go find him," Red said as she followed Kenny out of the party. He followed them at a slight distance out to the front yard, turning towards the gate as they went for Kenny's car. Tweek didn't know Token's yard very well, and most of what Tweek knew of it he'd gained from Drunk-Craig's stupid adventures.

Token lived on Eastbrook Hill, an upper-class residential block, all sprawling relics of the housing boom. The Hill part was literal; Token's backyard overlooked most of South Park, and the neighbors were spaced far apart in classic middle America rural style, as if a shadow of their collective cowboy days whispered of isolation and rugged independence. Both nearest neighbors had turned out their lights, and the darkness of Token's backyard gave Tweek pause. He sucked in a deep breath and picked his way down the yard, past Mrs. Black's water feature and flower garden, tripping most of the way. There were no fences, and as he walked the noise and lights of the party diminished, but there was no sign of Craig.

A little way farther down the hill, Tweek noticed a dim light in a neighbor's stable, and made his way down to it. It was hardly more than a large shed, and Tweek could smell the hay a few feet away. The door was ajar, and he pushed it open.

Craig- rather, Drunk-Craig- was inside, softly petting the nose of a tall chestnut horse.

"Craig?"

He turned around, saw Tweek, and smiled. His dimple was crooked from the alcohol, but his glazed-over eyes were happy. Tweek walked to his side, shuffling his feet through the dust and hay to keep from tripping again.

"What's his name?"

"She. Jasmine." He pointed to a plaque on the wall. Apparently the horse and it's rider were state champions in jumping with the Junior Equestrian League.

Tweek watched Craig and the horse a while longer, swaying slightly where he stood, blinking heavily. His thoughts were sluggish but happy, and Tweek enjoyed the unusual quiet in his brain. Craig and Jasmine were love at first sight- or the horse was just too tired to protest. It was a while before Craig said anything. It usually was.

"I cheated on our mates. Some guy gave me a beer."

"I won't tell if you don't."

"Wish I had some carrots or something. They like those right?"

"I think so."

"Don't you wanna say hi?"

Tweek shrugged. Horses had teeth. And large mouths.

"C'mere," Craig said, motioning him over. Tweek shook his head. "Don't be stupid," Craig said, crossing the short distance separating them to grab Tweek's wrist and drag him over to the horse. He placed Tweek's hand on top of her mane, then stepped away.

Tweek held his breath and stroked the bristly hair. A smile broke out over his face.

"See?" Drunk-Craig was still smiling.

"Yeah. Gotta say. One of your better wanders."

"What?"

"Drunk-you is always wandering off. And I'm usually always finding you."

"Oh. Yeah. Guess so." Craig kicked at some hay.

Jasmine snorted goo all over his forearm, and Tweek stepped away from the horse. His inebriated state kept the panic and disgust from escalating, and Craig handed him a towel on a bench.

"It's getting late... I guess we'd better let her sleep. Aren't you tired?"

No. Tweek was never tired.

By the time they got back to Token's house, the party had mostly disintegrated to curfews or to take care of friends who couldn't do so themselves. There was still a sleepy circle in the living room- Token, Clyde, Bebe, a few others- who were watching a movie and apparently making a drinking game of it.

"You wanna watch?"

Craig shook his head, yawning.

"There're blankets an' shit upstairs," Token said quietly, turning to them. "If you don't want to go home."

Craig barely stifled a yawn, and had to grab the couch for balance.

The first door at the top of the stairs was locked. The second was a bathroom, where a girl was puking into the toilet. Her friend was gingerly patting her on the back and holding her hair. Tweek shut the door on them to block out the nausea-inducing scene. The third appeared to be Token's room, and in any case a very naked Cartman was passed out on top of Token's bed. Tweek felt bad that Token was going to have to burn such a nice comforter.

Finally they came to a hobby room of sorts. Tweek squinted in the darkness, his vision already hindered by his recent poor life choices. There was somebody sleeping on a bench press and a couple on a fold-out couch. Token had indeed thrown a small pile of blankets in the corner.

Craig flopped on top of the pile and patted a spot next to him.

"Yeah, I'll just grab a blanket and take the other corner," Tweek said. His personal bubble was tingling.

Craig pouted. "No. But. I can't fall asleep without a pillow."

Tweek sighed. He was such a princess when he'd been drinking.

"You want me to go find you one?"

"No, just... c'mere. I'll use you," Craig said, as if it was the perfectly logical thing to say. He was already curling up like a cat. A pierced, boy-shaped cat in a blue hat.

"What? No." Tweek crossed his arms, tried to stop his face from flaming red.

"Come on man. Room's gonna start spinning if I don't fall asleep, and I can't do it if you don't help me."

"Right. Well what about how _I'm _supposed to fall asleep?"

Drunk-Craig smirked, a sloppy, beautiful thing that stretched across his face. "Who cares?" he asked.

"What?" Shock filled Tweek's stomach like ice.

"We both know you won't be asleep for _hours," _Craig said, standing up again- a risky process._ "_You're just gonna be lying there pretending anyway until what— two AM? By then, I'll be passed out, and you can jus' shove me off."

He made the shoving motion as he said the words, and smiled widely at Tweek's uncomprehending face for a long moment, before gently pushing Tweek backwards and nestling his head against Tweek's collarbone.

Tweek's heart was like a hammer in his chest. He held his breath, didn't dare move, didn't even try to comprehend what was happening just now. Craig was messing with the blankets, arranging them with great inhibited difficulty. He pulled a large forest-green quilt over their bodies.

Craig sighed deeply, and wrapped his top arm over Tweek's torso. Tweek could feel the air from his nostrils on his shoulder and neck.

"Um... Craig?" he ventured, scared to have to have him there, scared to have him leave.

He earned a grunt. The hand curled around his shoulder bone.

"Wha- What're you-" the words were barely audible so he was surprised when Craig answered him.

_"Shh... Sleepy time." _

Tweek didn't dare argue this time. Slowly, a smile spread over his face. Craig's breathing quickly turned into quiet snoring, his cheek pressed against Tweek's collarbone.

Once he relaxed, Tweek realized he really didn't mind the situation. At all. His body was humming pleasantly, and it was only partly due to the alcohol. Apparently his personal bubble was willing to make an exception for Craig.

Craig was right. Tweek didn't sleep much. And right now, with Craig's hair tickling his neck, he didn't want to waste a moment on something as pointless as sleeping.

After an hour, Craig started mumbling in his sleep, and flopped off of Tweek's chest. He felt a pang of regret, but figured it was probably best if they weren't found the next morning cuddling. Besides, Tweek wasn't sure how much or how well Craig would remember any of this.

He turned away from Craig and drifted off to sleep.

He was woken some time later by the feeling of an arm on his stomach and snuffly sleep sounds in his ear. Craig had pulled Tweek's body into his, and was keeping Tweek's back pressed up against his chest by a possessive grip.

Butterflies shot through Tweek's stomach. He was spooning Craig. Or, Craig was spooning him. Either way, it was happening, and it was amazing.

He closed his eyes and felt his interrupted sleep beckoning him back. Craig was mumbling in his sleep and nuzzling his face into Tweek's hair and neck. Tweek drifted in and out of sleep, the close smell of Craig filling his senses. Even if it was mostly pot and beer, he could still smell the cedar chips from Rosie's bedding and his Old Spice deodorant.

As the sky outside the window started to lighten to a soft grey, Tweek woke again and knew it was permanent when his usual paranoid thoughts started creeping back in again.

Craig's arm was still wrapped around his middle, and sometime in the night with Tweek's squirming, his shirt had ridden up. Craig's hand was warm and rough on his skin.

All of a sudden, Tweek realized Craig had a boner.

His face flamed red and dirty thoughts flooded his brain.

There were creaking noises from downstairs, and the sound of footsteps in the hallway outside. At any moment, somebody could come and see them like... _this. _And the longer this went on, the more likely that eventuality became.

The sunbeams were stretching in through the window. Tweek squirmed and hissed Craig's name. The arm pulled him in closer, and Craig hummed in his ear in a way that was positively dirty.

They had already almost ruined their friendship over thirty seconds of hand-to-hand contact, and as much as Tweek loved this, if it didn't end before somebody saw them he was sure Craig would never so much as look at him again- which would a shame, really, with those beautiful blue eyes.

He had to wake up Craig. And it was going to be awkward.


	6. Chapter 6

"As Tall as Cliffs," Margot and the Nuclear So and So's

xxx

Craig had the vague sense of height and lurching movement, and decided he was astride a horse- Jasmine. Jasmine snorted and pawed the ground, her breath clouding white in a cold dusk. Craig reached for the reins, heard clinking, and realized that he was wearing a suit of armor.

A dark forest full of twisted roots cornered him on three sides. He hoisted a lance in his left hand and looked around for his competitor.

A rumbling growl— like an earth slide, grating stone on metal, a force of nature— rattled his armor. Faithful Jasmine turned, unperturbed by the unearthly sound, and Craig saw his enemy. A serpentine creature, jagged claws gripping the earth, moonlight glinting darkly off its violet scales. He was gripped by its dangerous, ethereal beauty. Smoke billowed out of its nostrils.

Craig slammed down his helmet visor, narrowing his field of vision to a slit. He squared the lance in his arm and patted Jasmine's neck reassuringly. He dug his heels into her flanks, and she took off running with warrior instinct.

The lance glanced off the dragon's armor, splintering into a thousand pieces. Craig was thrown backwards to the ground, but he jumped up again, sword in hand, running at the beast. It roared, shaking sleeping birds out of the trees. As he ran at it, as he attacked, it shrunk until its head reached his shoulder.

His sword glanced off its skin, and Craig tossed it to the side, using the weight and momentum of his heavy body to launch himself at it. It squirmed under his grip, snorting out angry streams of smoke.

His grip wasn't enough to stop it from squirming, but it couldn't quite get away. He stared, suddenly arrested by the strange beauty of what he held. Wide eyes stared back at him, through him, and he was suddenly sure those dark eyes knew him better than he knew himself.

The dragon opened its mouth, baring a mouth of fangs. He knew it was about to blow flames, frying him to a crisp probably, but he couldn't move. He realized it was talking, had been talking the whole time, whispering urgently.

The dragon's forked tongue darted out, and he understood one whispered word.

_"Craig!"_

Craig woke up in horror. His reeling, fuzzy brain realized where he was, what had happened, what he was doing. He scrambled away from his newly-released prisoner.

Tweek stared at him with wide eyes strangely identical to the dragon's, save for the terror and confusion echoed in Tweek's.

_Oh my God, Craig, you stupid fuck, _he mentally berated himself. What had he done?

Tweek was shaking and avoiding Craig's eye. They were both speechless.

Craig glanced around the room. A few other bodies littered the floor, all still asleep. The sunlight streaming in past the curtains was a pale yellow. Craig guessed it was about six AM, and grasped his lurching head.

"Oh, god. I'm uh- What..." he forcibly stopped his stuttering mouth. The fuck was that?

The silence stretched on, and nothing seemed able to put it or Craig out of their collective misery. Perhaps only a few seconds passed, but they felt as long as an eon to Craig.

"Sorry?" he said finally, at last.

"No, it's- uh..." Tweek's face flushed a deep shade of red, and his eyes instantly dropped to his lap. His trembling got worse.

Craig groaned, and leaned against the wall. His whole body felt shaky and sick, his stomach especially. He hadn't eaten that much, and had drank a lot. He didn't remember deciding to cuddle with Tweek exactly, just a vague recollection of how warm he was, how soft his hair felt, how good and right he felt pressed up into him.

Craig closed his eyes and swallowed, forcibly blocking out that train of thought.

"You cheated on our mates last night," Tweek said quietly, trying not to wake anyone.

Craig chuckled and shrugged one shoulder. "Sorry again."

"Do you want to go make breakfast?"

Craig cracked open an eye, and made a face. The thought of food turned his stomach.

"Come on, you big baby," Tweek said, standing and holding out a hand. "We've gotta get up."

Craig only made it a few yards out of the room before he had to stumble to the bathroom and spill his stomach into the toilet. Tweek hovered in the doorway, looking unsure of himself.

"Are you okay?"

"Fabulous." His voice echoed against the porcelain. He reached up and flushed, but didn't move from the toilet. "It's fine. I'm a morning puker."

After a few minutes he stood up. He swished some water from the sink, then found a bottle of mouthwash. Tweek followed him into the bathroom, took a matching swig of mouthwash.

"So I take it that's a no on breakfast then?" Tweek asked, as they walked to the kitchen.

Craig gagged, and beelined for the sink just in case.

Tweek laughed at him. _Bastard_.

"I need to go home," Craig said. The thought of the upcoming day waiting for him filled his stomach with butterflies. The rude, ugly kind of butterflies. Maybe some other kind of insect. Cockroaches, maybe. His dad was leaving tonight.

"Okay," said Tweek. Craig realized he looked disappointed, and wasn't sure what to make of it. How long had they...?

"Listen, I feel like I keep apologizing for awkward shit between us, but like..."

Tweek shrugged, sucked his lips behind his teeth. Craig could tell he was gnawing at the inside of his mouth. His blonde hair was especially unruly in the morning, sticking straight up like a golden halo.

"I dunno. Sorry, I guess," Craig finished lamely.

Tweek nodded. He was blushing again and staring at the floor.

"Well, uh. I'm going to go then," he said, walking slowly towards the door.

"Ngh... N-No, yeah, I need to go too," Tweek said, walking with him. "Can't waste a whole Saturday on a hangover. Just promise you'll brush your teeth when you get home. The acid can erode your teeth, and decay can reach your bloodstream and really fuck everything up, you know."

Craig smiled. He kind of secretly liked Tweek's paranoid rants.

"Promise."

xxx

Tweek's home always smelled like coffee. Probably an obvious side effect of his family's source of income.

"Hi honey," his mother greeted him from the stove, where she stirred a large pot of oatmeal that smelled like it was burning.

"Hi mom."

"You got a package," she said, pointing to the corner of the living room. It was huge, flat, and filled Tweek with a special kind of terror. A new blank canvas he was supposed to fill for the upcoming art show.

"What on earth did you order?" she asked.

Tweek sighed, and poured himself a mug of coffee. "Nothing."

"Are you hungry?"

"No. Maybe later."

Tweek beelined for his room at the end of the hall. His room was his sanctuary. Most people at school didn't know he painted, mostly because he never talked about it, but his room was filled with half-finished paintings and art supplies. His room was small: a twin bed, a nightstand that was usually littered with coffee mugs and brushes, and his easel and tarp in the middle of the floor.

Tweek took a long swig then set the coffee on his nightstand, shoving a few pencils out of the way. He collapsed backwards on his bed and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. What had he done? What was happening? God, what must Craig think of him? Probably that he was some prude, stuck-up weirdo.

His phone buzzed loudly against the wood of his nightstand. He flopped onto his stomach and opened it. It was from Red.

_Did u find him?_

Tweek couldn't help a smile through the tight lurch in his stomach.

_Did I ever. Too much to tell..._

She responded almost instantly.

_Smoke in fifteen?_

They met in the park between their houses sometimes. Tweek agreed, then forced his legs to stand. His hands were shaking again, making it hard to lace up his shoes.

"Are you leaving again?" his mother asked, as he passed her in the kitchen.

"Ngh-No. Just going for a walk."

"Okay hun, stay warm."

She was already sitting on a swing when he got there. It wasn't so much a park, really, more a square patch of yellow grass and a swing set. Didn't really attract too many kids, what with all the smashed beer bottles and cigarette butts. He sat down on the other swing.

"Hey."

"Hey." Red took out a cigarette, and held the box out, offering one to Tweek.

"Thanks," he said.

"Sure. Seems only fair if I'm going to pester you for gossip."

Tweek sighed, and took his trusty green lighter out of his pocket.

"Circle of trust?" he asked, staring down at the two objects in his hands. He heard the flick of Red's lighter.

"Always." She blew out a cloud of smoke. The smell intensified his craving, and Tweek lit his own cigarette.

"I have no idea what happened last night," he started lamely.

"You mean you blacked out? I didn't think you were that drunk!"

"No! I mean... I don't understand." He sighed, took in a deep drag and held it in his lungs an extra second.

"I found him in his neighbor's stable."

"Classic Craig."

"Right? And then we pretty much crashed out at Token's house. Which is where it gets weird."

"How so?"

"We... I mean, he like... We cuddled?"

"Cuddled?" Red burst out laughing. "I'm sorry, that's adorable. God, that's adorable."

"Shut up."

Tweek blushed, scowled, and took another drag. It tickled his nose on the way out.

"What prompted that?"

"I don't know. Craig's a handsy drunk? He was really drunk. I think it's just one of those things."

"So did you tell him how you feel?"

"No."

"Did you talk about it at all?"

"Not really. No."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. God, everything's just all fucked up now. I can't... Ugh. Don't pressure me."

"Sorry."

Tweek one last heavy drag, then crushed out the ember on the end of cigarette against the pole of the swing set.

"No, I'm sorry. So, you and Kenny again?"

Red smiled shyly. "Yeah. Guess so."

"What happened?"

She shrugged. "The usual shit."

"You think it'll be different this time?"

She laughed. "Doubt it. But I keep going back to him like the stupid, naive girl I am, so."

"You must really love him."

She flushed deep red and made a face at him. "Tweek..."

He realized he shouldn't have said that, and stared at his feet. He couldn't even get this relationship right.

"Listen, I've got a shift soon. I'll see you Monday, okay?"

Tweek nodded and watched her leave. He swung back and forth, his feet never leaving the gravel. When the nicotine wore off and his hands began to shake again, he walked home.


	7. Chapter 7

"Afterlife," Arcade Fire

xxx

Craig got home, fed Rosie, and took a nap on his couch.

He woke up again at noon and groaned. He still wasn't ready to take a second try at starting the day. His stomach had settled, and he realized he was ravenously hungry, which was a good sign. His head was still throbbing, but he suspected that didn't have much to do with the hangover. He'd spooned Tweek. He'd spooned the fuck out of Tweek. God, why had he done that?

Craig burrowed his face into the cushions, squeezing his eyes closed to block out the vibrant memory forcing its way up his brain for analysis. It had been nice. Really, really nice.

"Cra-aaig!" he heard his mother call from downstairs. He groaned again, then shouted back.

"ONE MINUTE!"

He changed his underwear, jeans, and shirt, tossing the dirty ones into a pile in the corner of his room. He pulled his navy blue hoodie back on, and tugged his chullo hat back on his head.

"What am I gonna do Rosie?" he asked her, picking up his guinea pig and bringing it to eye level. He gently placed her inside the kangaroo pouch of his hoodie.

His mother was standing over a boiling pot, the image of a 50's housewife. She wore her favorite dress, had her blonde hair up, and even wore lipstick.

"There you are," she said. "Dinner's in fifteen. I need you to set the table."

"Dinner? It's noon."

She glared at him. "Well, your father leaves at one. It's an early dinner."

He grabbed a handful of silverware, and let Rosie crawl around the table while he laid everything out. His mother came in carrying a big bowl of salad.

"Oh- Craig! Not on the table," she scolded. He knew she didn't really mean it. Truthfully, he was already sick of her homemaker act.

"Help me put everything on the table," she said.

There was a saucepan of lazily bubbling meatballs. Craig lifted out a bowl from the cabinet and poured it out, trying not to get marinara sauce over the entire counter. His mom drained a pot of spaghetti and put it into a matching bowl.

"Dinner" was quiet, though in a nice way. Craig kept Rosie on his lap, and fed her illicit bits of salad and pasta.

"This is going to be a good change," his father said, helping himself to a second portion. "I'll miss home and all of you of course. But the money's really good. I think this is a good direction for our family."

Ruby glanced up at their dad, then back at her pasta.

"When will you be home again?" she asked.

"About three months from now."

They finished fifteen minutes before his dad was supposed to leave.

"Ruby, help your brother with the dishes," his father said, standing up. He was a towering, bulky figure with balding red hair. "Laura, can you help me find that shirt I was after?"

Craig helped his sister carry the plates to the sink.

"Wait, I need to pee," he said.

"Ugh, no- Don't you dare leave me with all this," she said.

"Just leave it then, you can put the pasta in tupperware."

He took the stairs two at a time and relieved himself. He didn't mean to eavesdrop, but heard the muffled sounds of his parents talking through the bathroom wall. The tones of their voices worried him. His father, angry, his mother, scared. He put his ear to the wall, heart pounding.

_"I'm trusting you Laura."_

_"I know. I know."_

_A pause. _

_"Are you sure you can handle this?"_

_"I have to."_

_"Well good. Because this is your last fucking chance, do you understand?"_

A pause, a muffled response.

_"No, I'm not sure you do. Get your head under control."_

Craig jerked his ear back from the wall, and walked back down to the kitchen mechanically.

Ruby was waiting for him, said something impatiently that he missed.

"What?"

She rolled her eyes. "Never mind."

He finished the dishes, letting Rosie explore the counter. His parents re-emerged downstairs. Craig moved Rosie back to his hoodie pouch.

Before he left, Craig's dad pulled him out of sight of his mom and sister.

"You'll take care of them while I'm gone, right?"

"I'm pretty sure they can take care of themselves just fine."

"Of course they can. But you're the man of the house while I'm gone."

Craig rolled his eyes, but stared at the floor so his dad wouldn't notice. "Careful Dad, the feminists'll hear you."

"Craig, be serious. No more screwing around."

He looked up at his dad.

"I know things've been rough. Maybe we've left you and your sister on your own too much."

Craig shrugged with one shoulder, and tried to respond. His dad's angry words echoed. How badly would Craig have to fuck up to get that treatment? How badly would his mom have to finally fuck up for him to do more than just yell at her?

"Thing'll get better. I promise," his dad said. Craig tried not to be bitter, remembering the hundred other times he'd heard that exact phrase.

"Don't let Ruby try to drive. Don't forget I can see your grades online. And um, you know, try to eat a vegetable every now and then. Okay?"

"Okay."

They stood out on the driveway waving as he drove away in the naked-looking trailer head. The slush was starting to melt in the bright mid-January sunshine, and piles of dried up leaves scraped against the street. He didn't want to know why his dad had told him all of that, and didn't know where to go with it.

Ruby complained about the cold and went inside, coat pulled in close, and Craig followed her.

xxx

Normally Tweek loved art class. Today, twenty minutes had gone by and he was still staring at a blank piece of paper. He couldn't stop shaking, and he kept wishing he had some coffee, or even better a cigarette and a long talk with Red to calm him down.

He couldn't stop glancing at the clock either. Across the room, Kenny and Cartman were snickering less-than-subtly over a crude drawing of a naked woman Kenny was painting. Clyde was attempting an oddly-shaped still life. He was nice, but couldn't draw to save his life, and colored pencils were a shitty medium anyway. Pete the Goth was almost done painting a canvas completely black. He probably thought that was edgy. Tweek didn't let himself look backwards at Nichole. He knew she was working on her centerpiece for the art show, a landscape of running horses. He also knew it was probably brilliant.

"Tweek, how are we doing today?"

He jerked out of his thoughts and realized Ms. Robinson was standing next to him.

"F-Fine."

"I see we still have a blank piece of paper."

"Yeah."

"You know, I really liked the piece you were working on yesterday."

"I know. I tore it up though."

"Why'd you do that?"

Tweek shrugged. "I didn't like it."

"Are you still working on something for the art show?"

"I don't know. I don't think I'm gonna come up with anything."

Ms Robinson patted his shoulder comfortingly.

"Yes you will. I believe in you."

She walked away, and Tweek squeezed his eyes closed for a moment. He knew she meant well, she'd done more for him than any other teacher he'd had, but it was just too much pressure to come up with something brilliant that the whole stupid school was going to see.

When he'd first taken art freshman year, he'd hated it. His hands couldn't draw a straight line, much less a picture of anything coherent. He felt ridiculous. One day, he lost his patience after ruining a drawing of a simple face when his hand involuntarily jerked while drawing the mouth. His shakes were embarrassing enough, and now there was a giant, irredeemable line cut through his drawing. Instead of balling it up, he took out his anger in heavy, wild lines across the page. Before he'd really realized what he'd done, Ms Robinson walked by and complimented it.

The plain face had transformed. A gaping, broken mouth, eyes outlined in sleepless circles, claw-like hands gripping the face. He immediately flipped to a new sheet in his sketchbook and retried it, this time using his shaking and his frustration. His first real drawing was half-monster half-girl, half random lines, and still not very good, but finally something that didn't fill him with self loathing.

It had been three days and Craig still wasn't talking to him.

He shook his head, shook the thought out of his head, and started drawing.

It was a pair of eyes. Probably Craig's eyes. No, for sure. He scooted three seats to the left by Clyde's side.

"Mind if I borrow this?" he asked, pointing to the blue colored pencil.

"Sure."

They drew in silence for a few minutes.

"Some party Friday."

"Yeah. You and Bebe looked like you were having fun."

"Heh. Yeah." Clyde held up his drawing, tilting his head as if to look at it better. "I think Bebe'll want that back," he said, pointing at the blue friendship bracelet still tied around Tweek's wrist.

"Oh. Right. I'm sure I'll run into her soon."

"Did Craig do anything especially stupid?"

Tweek blushed, and jerked his hand, accidentally getting blue outside the eyelid. Apparently that was added to his sketch now.

"What? What do you mean? No. Uh, not that I can think of. Why? What did he do? Did he tell you?"

"Calm down. Craig always wanders off when he's drunk."

"Oh. Well, he did invite himself into the neighbor's stable."

"Yeah, that makes sense."

A pause.

"Hey, you should come over to my place this Friday. I'm having a couple people over, and you're a hilarious dancer."

"Glad I can be of service."

"Plus you're good with drunk Craig."

Tweek swallowed nervously and didn't respond. It wasn't that they'd never been alone together before— they had. A lot. They smoked together more Fridays than not, ever since the first party Token had invited Tweek to. Everything just felt different now, and he wasn't sure why. Something had sparked between them that instant Craig took his wrist but Tweek didn't know what it was, and was scared to death he was imagining the whole thing.

Judging from last time, he wasn't sure he could handle being stuck in a room with Craig, alcohol, and the awful, untold truth.


	8. Chapter 8

"Finally Begin," Cold War Kids

xxx

Five days. He'd counted three and a half bottles of wine, more or less, which wasn't bad at all.

School was torture. Every visit to his locker, every interaction with Tweek, trying to pretend like nothing was happening. He was sure Clyde was starting to notice something.

Just one more shift though, and his weekend started.

He was attaching his Park County Grocery name badge in the employee bathroom when Red entered.

"Are you going to Clyde's tonight?"

Craig glared at the intruder, decided to wash his hands and splash water on his face.

"This is the men's room."

"Whatever."

"Are you?"

"No. Kenny and I have plans."

She kept staring at him as he dried off, careful to avoid snagging his eyebrow piercing.

"I have to clock in."

She smiled. "So do I."

"What do you want?"

"Well, it's just that I'm not going. And you're going. And Tweek's going. And so I won't be there to watch over him. You follow?"

"Wow, that's amazing. I didn't know you had three eyes."

"What?"

"Well, that must be how it works. How else do you watch Tweek while sucking face with Kenny all night?"

She scowled at him. They both clocked in and she followed him to the stocking prep room.

"I'm being serious."

"What do you want, Red?"

"You know what I want. Just like you know what Tweek wants, because I know deep down that you aren't actually the oblivious, apathetic, asexual asshole you pretend to be."

Craig decided to ignore her and her idiotic alliterations. She'd clearly been working on that for a while. He grabbed the stocking list clipboard.

"You can't ignore the obvious forever," she said. "You're as stubborn as a mule, and your stupid male pride isn't helping."

"I have work to do."

"Fine."

She hovered, appeared ready to walk away.

"Wait, Red?"

She stopped, wearing a smirk that threatened to be victorious.

"What do you mean— what Tweek wants?"

She smirk was definitely happening now.

"You know what I mean."

"Never mind," he said, turning back to the clip board. "You're no help."

"Just admit you like Tweek," she said. "I saw you two last weekend. I can see the way you look at each other."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"In vino veritas, Craig. Maybe invest in a pair of scissors though, if you don't want everyone to know," she said, flicking the blue "mates" friendship bracelet still tied to his wrist.

She walked away to do her job (for once) and Craig couldn't help glaring at the back of her stupid head.

xxx

"Well you two are mates again, obviously, since neither of you have taken off your bracelets."

Tweek glanced at Craig's wrist, and was shocked to see she was right. Well, maybe it wasn't so surprising. Craig was rather lazy, it was the sort of thing he'd forget about. The brunette wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Babe, can we not do that again? I had the worst hangover last time," Clyde said, pouting.

"Then don't mate with me, dumbass."

Clyde laughed, and she smacked his arm.

"I'm going out for a bowl," Craig announced. He took the shot in front of him, ignoring Bebe's protest. "Anyone joining me?"

The question was addressed to the room, but Craig was looking at him.

"Tweek, your mate is making demands already."

"Oh shut up, Bebe," Tweek snapped, taking his own shot. Not because Craig had or because Bebe would tell him to, but because he wanted to. He regretted coming here. This had been a bad choice.

"Yeah, I'll come," he said, fumbling through his pockets to make sure he had his cigarettes. "I just want a cigarette."

"Fine."

Dusk was falling outside, painting the sky pink, navy and orange. Tweek took a deep breath. Craig was sitting against the wall of Clyde's house, carefully packing a bowl in the focused way he did. Tweek sat next to him and lit a cigarette.

"Mates, huh?" Craig asked.

"Bebe sure loves it for some reason."

Craig chuckled. "You know she almost blew me? Like, six months ago?"

Tweek almost choked on his smoke. "What?"

"Yeah. She and Token and Nichole and I were drinking in his basement. Well, Token and Nichole were hooking up of course- It was my fault, should've seen it coming."

"So what happened?"

"What do you think, dumbass? I stopped her. I knew how Clyde felt."

Tweek took a slow drag. "You're a good friend, you know."

Craig laughed. "Sure. That too."

"What?"

Craig made an odd face, then covered it up. "He would've beat the shit out of me."

Tweek was already reaching the end of his cigarette. These god-damn shorts were killing him.

"Are we going to talk about it?" he asked in one long rushed syllable, forcing the words out.

Craig lit the edge of his bowl, held the smoke in puffed up cheeks for several long moments while staring at Tweek, then blew it out.

"Nope," he said.

Tweek sighed.

"Fine."

"That's a nasty habit, you know," Craig said, indicating the cigarette.

"I know."

Tweek threw his cigarette butt into a Folgers can full of sand and other discarded ends. He took out a second, and stared at it. The blessed nicotine calm had claimed his veins. Craig held out the glass piece to him as an offer.

"We're mates, you know."

Tweek felt a smile tugging at the edge of his mouth.

"Fine then, you bastard."

They rejoined the room a few minutes later, laughing.

The others- Clyde, Bebe, Kevin Stoley, Jimmy, Annie Nelson, and her friend Tweek didn't recognize- were already downstairs in Clyde's basement. They joined the circle, Tweek sitting next to Craig, who pulled a bottle of vodka and two shot glasses out of his backpack. Clyde's dad worked long night shifts, leaving Clyde alone with his basement often.

Tweek couldn't believe he was doing this again. His mom was going to find out. He was going to get his ass in permanent shit until he moved out.

In the twenty-some minutes they'd been outside everyone had managed to get themselves an impressive start on drinking. Clyde handed him and Craig beer cans, which he took thankfully and sipped.

"The game is truth or dare," Bebe told them, once they sat down.

"Ugh, seriously?" Craig asked. "What is this, middle school?"

"Shut up you buzzkill."

"That's a shot for complaining," Clyde told him.

"Who made these stupid fucking rules?" Craig asked, taking the shot anyways. He poured a matching one for Tweek and pushed it towards him, a smirk in his eyes.

Craig almost always used his Grand Canyon shot glass he'd bought on vacation with his family last summer, just like Tweek almost always used the green striped one Craig always brought for him when they went drinking together. Tweek popped open a can of Coke for chaser before taking the shot.

The night pressed on, and enough shy, predictable rounds had gone by before enough alcohol kicked in, and Tweek knew it was time to end the game or get worried.

Bebe poured two shots, searched around the circle once, and landed on Tweek.

"Tweek..." she said. "Truth or dare?"

Tweek felt himself twitch violently. Oh god. Bebe would ask him something awful and personal that he wouldn't want to answer- he just knew it- and he'd end up taking the stupid shot. But she could also dare him to do something ridiculous and embarrassing and he was already a little bit too drunk.

"Ngh- Uh- Truth."

Bebe smirked. "Who here would you most rather bang?"

"Ngh- what was the dare?"

Her smirk deepened.

"Fine. Then kiss Annie."

The girl, who was on his side opposite Craig, started giggling uncontrollably.

"There's always a way out," Bebe said smugly, pouring liquid into his striped shot glass.

Tweek grabbed the shot- it was tequila, god he hated Tequila- and took it.

"Has anyone ever told you you're a control freak?" he told her, taking a large swallow of Coke and making a face that made most of the circle laugh at him.

There were several taunting reminders for Craig to match him, which he did, chasing with the same can of Coke.

"Who're you choosing?" somebody asked him.

"Bebe."

"Truth."

"Coward. Okay. Umm... What does Clyde's cock taste like?"

The entire circle burst into laughter at the sudden, nasty question from the normally reserved, awkward boy.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Bebe snapped, her entire face flushed bright red.

She was saved from answering by Annie announcing she thought she might be sick, and half her friends rushing her off to the downstairs bathroom.

Tweek realized he had to pee, badly. He announced as much to the room then stood and stumbled, grabbing onto the couch for support.

"Are you okay?" Clyde asked, laughing at Tweek's struggle.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Just have to pee. And maybe a smoke."

He made it to the bathroom, only bruising himself (hopefully) once. He washed his hands and exited, then came face to face with Craig. Dark hair, eyebrow piercing glinting over stormy blue eyes, curved pale lips frowning like always. Craig, beautiful Craig, his Craig.

"I need to talk to you," he said, grabbing Tweek's wrist and pulling him further into the hallway, then into a room Tweek recognized must be Clyde's, before closing the door.

"What's the matter?" Tweek asked.

"Nothing. Nothing, just shut up for a minute so I can think."

"Okay."

Tweek watched Craig pace back and forth through the cramped, dirty room, kicking Clyde's dirty clothes and magazines out of his path as he went. Tweek felt oddly calm watching him. Suddenly Craig stopped just a foot away from Tweek, staring into his eyes desperately.

"I like you, okay?"

Craig groaned, and buried his face in his hands. "I really fucking like you," he said, muffled words aimed at the floor. "I like your stupid, fucked-up hair. I like the way you blow smoke out your nose. I just- I may not understand your quirks- but I _get _them, okay? I get it. And when you relax around me, when we're alone, I think can't help thinking you're fucking sexy. Your voice. Your eyes, and if we're being really honest with ourselves, you've got an ass that I... Just... I just can't stop thinking about you."

Tweek was shocked, both by the revelation and having never before heard so many words come out of Craig's mouth at once. As his confession went on, the shock faded and a gooey warmth spread through his stomach.

Craig dropped his hands and stared at him with tortured eyes.

"I get it if you hate me now and never want to smoke together again, I deserve-"

"Goddammit, you're an idiot, you know that you're an idiot, right?" Tweek said.

Drunken courage filled his veins. He crossed the distance separating them and smashed their mouths together. For a moment Craig, just stood there. Like a frozen man thawing, he kissed Tweek back.

The crooked point of Craig's nose was pressed into his cheek and Tweek's heart was hammering with adrenaline. He slipped his hands backwards into Craig's soft hair, and felt shy hands at his hips.

They broke apart, and Craig finally met his gaze. His cheeks blazed red.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"What are you always apologizing to me for?" Tweek asked. "I wanted this so bad, for so long, you probably don't even..."

They were kissing again, suddenly.

Craig's grip on his waist tightened, and he coaxed Tweek's mouth open. The tip of Craig's tongue met his lower lip, entered his mouth hesitantly.

There was a bang and a spike in noise from below- the door was open. Fear shot through Tweek. They broke apart and came face to face with Clyde.

His brown eyes were wide and confused, shocked. He instantly started babbling words Tweek couldn't quite understand as English.

"Stop," Craig said. "Come in. Close the door."

"No, I was just..."

Craig motioned impatiently and Clyde did as he'd said.

Tweek sat on Clyde's unmade bed. Craig started pacing again.

"It's not, uh, what it looks like?" Tweek said, feeling dumb.

"It's exactly what it looks like," Craig snapped.

"Look, it's fine, I don't care if you two are... whatever."

Tweek felt worse for Clyde, who stood close to the door looking mortified. Craig stopped pacing and held his best friend by the shoulders at arms length to stare at his face.

"You can't tell anyone."

Clyde shook his head. "No, sure, of course not."

"It wasn't- We're not... We were drunk and it just sort of- happened."

A sinking feeling filled Tweek's stomach.

"Okay."

Craig released Clyde, and slumped down onto the floor, leaning against the wall. Clyde joined Tweek on the foot of the bed.

"So... is this who you were having those sex dreams about?" he asked.

Craig glared up at him, face beet red.

"That was one time."

Clyde cackled. Tweek felt that squishy, happy feeling again and couldn't help smiling despite being equally red.

"God, you know you're a dick sometimes, Clyde?" Craig said, once again trying to hide his ever-reddening face in his hands.

Had Craig really had a sex dream about him? When? Tweek couldn't help wondering what he'd dreamt about.

"Well I'm not leaving you two alone so you can make out in my room," Clyde said.

Craig glared at him. "You know you and Bebe still owe me."

Clyde waved away the comment.

Tweek pulled out his phone to check the time. It was late. Very late.

"I need to be getting home," he said, standing.

"I'll walk you," Craig offered.

Clyde still sat on his bed, smirking.

"Shut up, Clyde," Craig snapped, grabbing Tweek's wrist again and leading him out of the house. They ducked back into the basement for a minute to grab Craig's backpack, and notice that Annie seemed to be recovering, then were back out in the cold night air.

They walked in quiet for a few minutes. Tweek picked at the frayed edge of his jacket, unsure what to say, craving a smoke but he knew Craig didn't like them.

After a few blocks, Craig reached over and took Tweek's hand, weaving their fingers together. Craig's thumb pinned Tweek's down. Craig's hand was a comfortable pressure on his. Tweek realized there was nothing that needed to be said.

They stopped a few feet away from the Tweek's home, and Craig let go of Tweek.

"So if you're free tomorrow, maybe you'd like to... Hang out or something?" Craig asked.

Tweek smiled, felt himself blushing.

"Yeah, sure."

Craig stared at the sidewalk, but couldn't hide that he was smiling too.

"Cool. I'll uh, text you."

Tweek watched Craig walk away, hands in his pockets, strings of his hat swinging with his steps. His stomach was a bundle of happy nerves, and he wished he'd kissed him, even though the idea still terrified him.

Tweek snuck up the staircase to his bedroom. It was hard to tell if he was actually being as sneaky as he hoped through the clinging haze of alcohol. He took off his jeans and coat and shirt and slid into bed in his boxers. For the first night in a long time, he fell asleep within minutes.

It was quiet in the house, except for the sound of late night television from the living room. He'd been texting Ruby all night. She was sleeping over at Karen's. He stood in the doorway of the living room, needing to cross to get to the staircase to his own room.

"You're still up?" he asked. His mom glanced up from the TV, surprised. She was holding a glass, curled up the corner of the couch under a blanket.

"Yeah," she said. "Couldn't sleep."

He stood there for a moment longer, unsure what to say. Indecision and guilt and anger pulled at his gut, and he decided it was probably best to say nothing.

"Ruby's with Karen."

"I figured. How's Clyde?"

"He's good." He crossed the room, paused at the stairs.

"Good night mom."

"Night sweetie."


	9. Chapter 9

"First Date," Blink-182

xxx

Craig was nervous. It took him three hours to realize it. He woke up with a hangover- again- and proceeded to eat a bowl of cheerios, take a shower, actually brush his hair, and worry about his teeth and which almost-empty stick of deodorant he used. He picked out his favorite pair of boxers, pulled on a clean pair of grey jeans, a black shirt, his navy pullover, last but never least his blue chullo hat with the yellow pom-pom. It was more a sad yellow flop of yarn after all these years.

_We're just hanging out, _he reminded himself. That was it. Just like always. Nothing to worry about.

It was a Saturday. His mom was at work- the women's clothing section of a department store- and Ruby hadn't come home from Karen's last night. He'd texted her twice this morning with no response. That was the height of nagging for Craig. It was nearly time for her to be at soccer camp, and if she needed a ride she was nearly shit out of luck.

Craig aimlessly paced the house, dusted the living room, blew his nose, pretended he wasn't waiting. When the doorbell rang, he ignored the spasm of nerves and fear and excitement that gripped his chest like lightning.

"Hey," he said, opening the door.

Tweek stood there, flaxen hair floating loose and wild around his head, olive green shirt carefully buttoned. His pale blue eyes pierced Craig, mirroring his own emotions. Hands in his pockets, as if forcing himself not to pick at anything, chewing at his lower lip.

"Hey," Tweek echoed.

"Nobody's home," Craig said, ushering Tweek inside. "And I'm not sure when that's going to change."

"Okay."

They stood there for a moment, staring at each other.

_It's not a date, it's not a date, itsnotadategoddammit. _

"So, uh, I downloaded that new Tarantino movie you talked about."

Tweek's face lit up.

"Really? You've seen his other stuff, right?"

"Just Kill Bill. The first one."

"Oh, you're going to love this," Tweek said. Excitement flushed his cheeks. He smelled like coffee and cigarettes, paint and dust.

They stole up to his room, and Craig started the movie. They sat side by side on either end of the two-seater couch while the slow, artistic black and white credit sequence rolled. A battle-scarred girl adorned with only an AK-47 was driving down a deserted highway.

Craig watched impatiently, nerves drumming in his veins. The girl was carrying on some conversation, and as hard as he tried to follow the dialogue, it simply made no sense. All of a sudden, the bar scene turned into a massacre as the girl, now clothed, turned her gun on the room. Blood and guts and shining katana blades flashed across the screen.

Tweek scooted slightly closer. Craig swallowed against a stomach full of nerves.

"This is where she meets a younger version of Andrew Jackson," Tweek said. "Though we don't know that yet- it really isn't explicitly covered."

"Uh huh."

Another excruciating fifteen minutes of dialogue passed, and another character was beheaded.

"What do you think of the cinematography?" Tweek was asking. "His use of light and color does more for the story than the actual plot."

"You don't say."

Tweek was edging towards the halfway point of the couch, the edge between the cushions. Craig knew it was costing Tweek every inch of self-confidence and determination and desire that he had, and that it was killing him every minute Craig sat frozen. Swallowing against the dry lump in his throat, Craig reached his hand out and took Tweek's hand.

His commentary dropped dead, and Craig squeezed his hand.

Craig was no longer following what was happening on screen, not even a little bit. He looked at Tweek, only to realize his quivering grey eyes were already searching his face.

He leaned towards him, desire beating a frantic rhythm against his ribcage.

Tweek's lips were light against his, but the sensation was perfect. He scooted closer, turning his body into Tweek's, and reaching his hands to the other's hips again. Tweek sat still as a statue, and Craig rotated his head for a better angle, coaxing Tweek's lips open. Tweek's hands went to his hair, his shoulders.

His hands pressed against the curves of Tweek's hip bones, the flat expanse of his waist, feeling the soft fabric of his shirt, wanting so much more.

Craig pressed forward, bracing one hand against the couch. He half-guided, half-pushed Tweek backwards and positioned himself over him, one leg tangled between Tweek's.

They broke apart. Craig stared down at his face and smiled.

He was kissing Tweek Tweak. The strange, elf-like boy who'd made his heart do funny things since the day their lockers had been assigned across from each other—No, truthfully from that first night he'd convinced Tweek to smoke with him, and they'd started talking, and he'd known he was in a pile of shit because here was a strange, beautiful soul that responded to his in a way he'd never felt before. Things like this, they tended to end in heartbreak.

Craig leaned forward again, pressing his lips to the soft warmth of Tweek's cheek, his jaw, working down to his neck. Tweek was a pile of breathy laughter, and his hands wove into Craig's hair. They were kissing again, and Craig let his fingers slip under the edge of Tweek's shirt. Tweek didn't seem to mind.

Suddenly, some two hours had passed and they were both staring at the movie credits.

They sat back up on the couch about a foot apart, and Tweek put his shirt back on. Craig glanced around the room, then over at Tweek. They stared at each other for a moment, saying nothing, guilty smiles plastered on. Suddenly Craig was laughing, and Tweek joined him.

"So I was hoping to discuss the movie with you," Tweek said. "But that might be a little hard."

"Yeah, didn't really follow it too well."

Craig worried that Tweek's smile might be permanent at this point. He wouldn't mind that though.

"That's fine by me," Tweek said, leaning his head into Craig's shoulder.


	10. Chapter 10

"This Is What It Feels Like," Banks

xxx

Craig sat alone at a table in the cafeteria with his ipod, blasting angsty metal and chewing his nails. His mom was drinking again. There was no more avoiding or denying it. He had no idea what to do. She had late shifts the next three days, meaning he wouldn't even see much of her. Worry and doubts swirled around his head, mostly wondering if she ever really stopped, wondering if his dad knew. Craig stared at his phone sitting on the table. He should call him. Or text him. Something. Just say something.

"Hey. Craig. Hello?"

Craig jumped, realized Tweek was standing in front of him. He pulled out his earbuds.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked. "You had a weird look on your face."

"Yeah, I'm fine. What's up?"

Tweek sat across from him.

"My parents want you to come over for dinner," he said.

"What? Why? What did you tell them?"

"Nothing! My mom just _knows_, man."

"Uh-huh. She's what, psychic?"

Tweek let out an affected sigh. "I told her I was going to a friend's house. I tell her your name. She pats me on the head and smiles. I dunno man, she just sees right through my bullshit."

"You know, you _are_ an awful liar, Tweek."

"Whatever. So are you coming?"

"Tonight?"

"Yeah. She's making lasagna."

Craig turned off his ipod and put it back in his pocket with his phone.

"I guess. Sure."

The bell for class rang, and they filed out into the hallway. They walked close without touching.

"So come over around six?"

"Okay."

Tweek smiled, blue eyes and lightly freckled face lighting up.

"Awesome. See you later, Craig."

He watched Tweek go, feeling strangely nervous and happy from the way he'd smiled while saying his name. Craig reinserted his earbuds before going to class, hiding them under his hat and sweatshirt.

Later that evening, Craig borrowed his parents' car and drove to Tweek's house. He parked in their driveway and sat in the car for several minutes staring at the dashboard, trying to delay the inevitable. He knew Tweek was probably inside panicking. He took a deep breath, pulled his hat down over his ears as far as it would go, and left the car.

Tweek's mother opened the door.

"You must be Craig!"

"Hi, Mrs. Tweak."

She led him through their clean, sparse living room into the kitchen.

"That smells amazing."

"Thank you, honey."

Tweek came pounding down the stairs, came to a sliding stop in the doorway.

"Hi Craig."

"Hi Tweek."

Mrs. Tweak peeked inside the oven. "Dinner should be ready soon. Tweek honey, will you take the lasagna out when the timer goes off?"

"Ahh-Okay."

Craig was surprised his parents would trust him with an oven, or really any task that involved hot surfaces.

His mom wandered out of the room, and Tweek began setting the table. Craig helped him.

"How was math?" Tweek asked. He knew it was Craig's least favorite class. Not that he had any particularly favorite classes.

"She gave us a quiz." Algebra Two was killing him.

"What a bitch," Tweek said under his breath, jokingly. Craig smirked at him.

"How was Biology?" he asked.

_"Gah!"_ Tweek twitched and ignored the question. He knew Tweek hated that class. Something about body parts, blood, diseases, and bacteria.

The timer went off after a few minutes, and Craig took the lasagna out to Tweek's relief.

Tweek's parents wandered in. His mother took a large bowl of salad out of the fridge and set it on the table.

Craig sat as straight as he could, and tried to mind his manners as well as he could remember how to. It was several minutes before Mr. Tweak seemed to notice Craig. He was fiddling with the radio, setting it to instrumental guitar music.

"Oh," he said, looking at Craig half-way through his salad. "You must be Tweek's friend."

"Hello. Um, yes. Thank you for inviting me to dinner."

Craig struggled with a large piece of lettuce. Salad was rather a foreign concept to him. Mr. Tweak stared off into the distance thoughtfully.

"Ah, yes. I remember my best friend from high school, Billy Tompkins. Long summer days playing baseball, dusty afternoons in our neighborhood, the refreshing relief of our local pool, walking together to school through the first snowfall of the year, like wading through our own quickly disappearing childhoods..."

"Hon," Tweek's mother interrupted him. "You're soliloquizing again."

"Ah yes, sorry."

The last of dinner passed in forced small talk and quite a lot of staring. Craig saw where Tweek got it from now.

"Do you want to watch a movie or something?"

"Sure," Craig said, awkwardly watching the Tweak family do dishes, trying to look as if he wanted to appear helpful. "Just not Tarantino."

Tweek glanced at him with a guilty smile.

They ended up with a generic action movie. Craig wished they weren't in the middle of the Tweak family living room so he could touch Tweek, who was sitting close by his side with his knees pulled into his chest.

Halfway through, Tweek paused the movie.

"Do you smell that?" he asked, panic on his face.

"What?" Craig couldn't smell anything- well, maybe something burning. He followed Tweek to the kitchen, where a tray of blackening cookies sat in the oven.

Tweek sighed, took the tray out. "She just forgets sometimes," he told Craig under his breath. "It's a family trait, as I'm sure you've noticed."

Mrs. Tweak joined them shortly after, but decided to let the boys finish the job.

All too soon, Craig stood at the door with a tupperware box full of cookies.

Tweek offered to walk Craig to his car and checked the windows over his shoulder every few seconds, but still gave Craig a lingering hug.

"Thanks for coming over," he said. "My mom's stupid idea, but it wasn't like I could say no."

"Are you kidding? That was delicious. Thanks, Tweek."

They broke apart reluctantly.

"See you tomorrow," Tweek said.

xxx

Tweek was asleep in bed, lying on his side with the sheets tangled around his legs.

In his dream, he and Craig were walking through the park late at night. The darkness was pressing in on him, surrounding him. He could feel Craig holding his hand, but as they went on it slipped away. He felt as if somebody was watching him, following him in the darkness. He wanted to know where Craig was, wanted Craig to tell him nothing was there. Tweek ran and tripped. He knew it would kill him if it could.

He knew what was about to happen as it happened.

Tweek woke up. His room was dim, and the intense feeling of being watched hung over from his dream. The weight of those eyes hung in the air, almost tangible.

Suddenly he saw it. The monster filled his doorway, blacker than night, darker than any mere absence of light had reason to be. It was Tweek's personal demon.

He stood watching Tweek with evil intent. Tweek was frozen, his body immobile underneath the sheets against his will. He knew in the depths of his soul that one day the demon wouldn't be satisfied watching him. One day it would come for him.

Panic, fear. Tweek tried to scream, but the sound was swallowed up by the darkness. He tried to run, tried to move. His body was no longer his own, trapped motionless. He was the demon's prisoner.

Tweek woke up again, for real this time, panting and sweaty. He sat up and caught his breath, trying hard not to cry. Irrational, overpowering fear still filled his veins.

Tweek had been struggling with nightmares and sleep paralysis nearly as long as he could remember. Several years back, his parents had sent him off to a series of doctors and psychotherapists and sleep specialists, but Tweek hated the pills and the judging eyes of every psychologist. Eventually he'd just given up, and so had his parents.

There was no sleeping now. Tweek rolled out of bed, put on some sweatpants and walked downstairs for a cup of coffee. He paced the kitchen, resisting the urge to call Craig. He really wanted to hear his voice. The way he'd disappeared in the dream, just slipped away as if he'd never existed, was still bothering Tweek.

If it wasn't the middle of the night, Tweek would ask Red to meet up. Then again, he hadn't exactly told Red about the developments with Craig, and the guilt was starting to eat at him.

He tried watching the Nature channel, as that usually calmed him down, but it was a special on asteroids. Fifteen minutes later, Tweek was too busy worrying about the earth being possibly destroyed by a meteor to think about anything else. He scrubbed the bathroom to clear his head, and soon enough it was time for school again.


	11. Chapter 11

**NSFW warning**

"Honest," Kodaline

xxx

Craig was minding his own business re-reading his worn out copy of IT when he was rudely interrupted by Clyde.

"Hey, whatcha reading?"

"What are _you_ doing in the _library?" _

Clyde (very rudely) turned the cover to face him.

"How are you not sick of that book? Doesn't it creep you out?"

"I'm surprised you didn't burst into flames at the entrance like a demon on holy ground."

"Shut up, Craig. I'm not the one who like kiddie-diddling clowns."

Craig put down the book and tried not to look annoyed. Unfortunately, he'd been told he had a bad case of resting bitch face.

"You really shouldn't eat in here," he said.

"But it's lunch period."

"Yeah, and this is the library."

"Whatever. Where's Tweek?"

"How should I know?"

"Please. We both know you know."

"Art room."

Clyde nodded, took a thoughtful bite of his burrito.

"Are you two official boyfriends yet, or what?"

Craig glanced around, before responding in an angry hiss.

"Clyde, are you seriously—? _Shut. Up._"

"Come on Craig, I see how you look at him. And don't forget I also saw you two sucking face in _my _room."

"Clyde! Someone's going to hear you."

"Fine, fine," he lowered his voice. "But it _is _obvious."

Craig watched him finish the burrito, mildly disgusted. "I guess so." Tweek was… delicate. Craig didn't want to scare him off by letting his idiot-best-friend tell the entire school… tell them what, exactly?

"Fair enough. So, how are... things? Is it official, or what?"

Craig shrugged. "It's fine. I don't know."

Clyde kept staring at him while he took another messy bite of burrito like he was waiting for Craig to go on. It had been a few weeks since the incident in Clyde's bedroom, but weirdly enough they'd somehow managed to never talk about it. Not directly.

"We've don't really talk about it. We've just been doing... whatever it is we always do… but now we make out sometimes too."

"Gross."

"Whatever. The things you've told me about Bebe..."

It was Clyde's turn now to anxiously scan the room.

"Yeah, most of which nobody can ever know I told you."

"I know, don't worry."

"So are you coming to Token's tonight? Call of Duty and pizza..."

"Dunno yet. Probably."

"You'd better."

He stood to leave, but then leaned back towards Craig.

"Go find Tweek," he said. "I don't know why you two aren't spending every waking minute together and drowning each other in romantic nonsense, because it's obvious you both want to. You're both just too chicken to open up about your feelings. You especially, Craig. You never tell anybody what's going on in that thick skull of yours."

He stood up straight, smirking as if he'd just delivered the coup d'etat of relationship advice.

"Chicks dig sensitive guys who talk about their feelings, you know."

Craig scowled. "Clyde… Okay. One, Tweek is not a chick. Two, even if that _was_ true..."

"It's totally true man, trust me. It's the only way to get them to blow you."

"Fuck off, Clyde."

"See you tonight, Craigsy-poo."

xxx

Tweek sat at a library computer, half-heartedly following along with the lesson. Little to his knowledge, Kenny and Red had spotted him but were hiding in his peripheral vision.

Kenny walked up behind Tweek. "Dude, you smell like pot," he said.

Tweek immediately jumped into the air. "Jesus!— I do? Where?"

Kenny's initial confusion was drowned in laughter. Tweek scowled at him, his cheeks burning. Anxious, paranoid thoughts raced in his brain. _Everyone knows, everyone knows, oh god everyone knows…_

"Calm down you giant fucking twitch, it was a joke."

Tweek tried hard to be more angry than embarrassed.

"Are you high, though?" Kenny pressed, Red now joined at his side. He slung an arm around her waist.

"No," Tweek lied lamely, trying to turn around to face his computer screen.

Red tore out of Kenny's grip to force his head around and peer at his eyes.

"You _are_ high, you fucker," she said in a loud whisper. "What the hell, Tweek?"

The guilt was quickly became shame. He never went to class high. He hated constantly wondering if everyone knew he was high, and feeling guilty for not doing the proper amount of learning. It just wasn't worth it. Usually. Craig had talked him into it this morning. Craig had seemed upset about something, and Tweek had desperately wanted to ask him what it was but the words had stuck in his throat, self-doubt like glue in his mouth.

He'd seemed a lot better after smoking, though. Relaxed enough to all-of-a-sudden kiss Tweek, all of his own volition, in semi-pubic. Tweek still hadn't told Red anything yet, and he was terrified of making her angry. Would she be angry? Did she have a right to be angry? Tweek kind of thought that she didn't, but a part of him also felt that she did. He'd told her everything until now. She was so nice to him and it wasn't exactly like Tweek was drowning in friends. But she was still one of the popular girls. What was she even doing talking to him— the twitchy gay stoner art freak?

"You're kissing Craig."

"What?"

"I can see your fucking hickey, dumb-ass."

"No, what that is- is that, I uh…"

"How long has it been?"

"I'M SO SORRY!" he shouted, bursting into sobs.

Red glanced around the library in horror, shocked at his sudden change in demeanor. She pulled him up out of his chair and led him not-unkindly out of the library.

They went into the girl's bathroom, and Kenny waited outside.

"What's the matter?" she asked, wrapping him into a hug. When Tweek couldn't answer for a few minutes over the last waves of hiccuping sobs, she tried to dab at his face with a damp paper towel.

"I'm not your fucking pet project," he said, slapping away the cloth. "I _ngh_-know you love to laugh at my sad little life, but…"

"Tweek, calm down. I'm not laughing at you."

He covering his face with his hands, blocking out the light and Red's gaze. Panic swelled in his chest, threatening to suffocate him. He forced in deep breaths, letting them out in shaky exhales.

"I'm sorry," he said, still hiding his face. "It's been eight hours over three days, I think. It starts to wear you down, and being high doesn't help."

"I'm sorry baby," Red said, keeping her space but looking honestly sad.

"I'm fine." He was breathing normally again, and no longer hiding his face from the screaming florescent lights.

"What's going on?"

"You were right. Craig and I are— whatever we're doing. I didn't want to tell you, because I feel like… I felt like if I blinked it would disappear."

She nodded. "It's okay, Tweek. I'm not entitled to every detail of your life. I love hearing what you give me— but only because I care about you."

Tweek felt his eyes welling up. It was too much.

She noticed his blinking, and took his hand.

"Come on, it's taco Thursday. We gotta go make sure your ass is too spicy for Craig to violate it."

"Red! _Oh my god!_"

She laughed, and led him out of the bathroom.

Later that night, Craig sat in the living room half-heartedly reading.

He had his phone in his left pocket, and kept checking it for messages. It was starting to get serious. He should call his dad. He really should.

Ruby was on the couch in her pajamas, pretending to do homework and watching a Channing Tatum movie.

"I don't get why you think he's attractive," Craig said.

"Of course you don't. Hunky isn't exactly your type."

"I'm not sure I like your tone."

She flipped him off.

Before he could respond in kind, his phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hey asshole." It was Token. "Call of Duty and pizza. Get over here."

"I'm staying home tonight," Craig said.

"What? Why?"

"Because I have to take a gigantic shit."

"God, Craig- Gross. Come on."

"I can't, okay?"

"Fine. Okay, whatever. See you tomorrow I guess."

The line clicked dead. There was no noise from his mom's room upstairs, and Craig decided he was going to ignore it— her— for the night.

He made a pot of mac-and-cheese and ate it with Ruby while watching the movie. Tweek texted him during a shirtless scene.

_Token says you're not coming_

He tapped the keyboard, trying to think of what to say.

_Aaaaaah yeah... _

He replied in under a minute.

_Is it ur sister or mom?_

Craig stared at the screen of his phone in blank shock. Was he that transparent? Did everyone know about his family's issues— was he just lying to himself trying to cover it up and take care of Ruby like this?

Before he could think of how to respond, Tweek followed it up with a second text.

_Nonono sorry I'm sorry I didn't mean to butt in I just noticed please don't hate me_

Despite his shock, Craig found himself typing: _No, its okay._

And then, a few seconds later: _We both know you hate shooter games…_

Craig wasn't entirely sure what he meant by that, but he felt his heart beating a little faster as he hit send. It hit him a few seconds later, watching Channing Tatum win his girl. He was flirting with Tweek. Straight up flirting. They'd already made out a few times, why did that feel so weird?

_Do you want me to come over?_

"Do you care if Tweek comes over?" Craig asked.

Ruby gave him a face, part disgusted, part amused.

"Whatever you want, I'm going to bed."

"Just do the dishes first, I cooked."

Tweek showed up half an hour later with a dusting of snow in his hair and on his dark green coat.

"Cold outside?"

"A bit. How are you?"

"Fine."

Tweek took off his coat and sat next to Craig on the couch. He leaned in for a lingering kiss.

"Are you sure you're fine?" Tweek asked, his face still close to Craig's. As much as he hated himself for it, his conversation with Clyde came to mind. Maybe it was true… he wasn't the most open person ever.

"Yeah. I just didn't want to leave Ruby home alone."

"I sort of noticed that. Sorry."

"It's okay. I mean, its hard not to notice, I guess."

"Is everything okay with her?"

Craig nodded. "Ruby is mature for fourteen. It's just... it's complicated."

"Okay," Tweek said, nodding. He seemed willing to drop it, and Craig breathed a sigh of relief.

He got lost again for a bit in Tweek's lips.

"You didn't leave Token and Clyde alone together did you?" he asked, breaking away to move down Tweek's neck.

"No. Cartman and Kenny were coming over too."

"Well perfect, then I'm definitely glad I skipped out."

"Aww, I _ngh_-know you don't like those guys but they're _ngh_-not so bad."

"You doing okay?" Craig asked, laughing against the skin of Tweek's neck, enjoying the warmth against his chapped lips.

"Yeah. Uh, sort of."

"Yeah?"

He slid his hand up Tweek's thigh to his already growing bulge. Tweek's breathing was getting heavy and when Craig sucked a patch of skin at his collarbone between his teeth, he let out a soft moan that sent Craig's brain directly to the gutter.

"Is your sister asleep?"

Something between the implications of the question and the lustful glint in Tweek's eyes sent a lightning bolt through Craig's stomach.

He stood, taking Tweek's hand and leading him upstairs, heart hammering in his chest.

They ended up on the couch, Tweek writhing under Craig. Shirts were discarded and Craig loved the sight of Tweek's neck and collarbones dotted with purpling hickeys, the gentle curve of his shoulders and skinny torso. His eyes travelled down to Tweek's pale green boxers where his cock was threatening to pop out, back up the trail of blonde hairs leading to his belly button, to his flushed cheeks, messy hair and parted lips. Tweek was staring at him with dilated pupils.

"What?"

"I think I want to find out what you look like when you come."

_"What?"_

He dived back into Tweek's mouth, tasting him and reaching for the hem of his boxers. Craig moved down Tweek's body with his hands and mouth, and glanced back up at Tweek when he reached his underwear. When he nodded, he took them off.

This was beyond anything they'd done before, and it felt like a point of no return. Craig's heartbeat felt heavy in his chest and he was suddenly unsure of himself. Tweek was naked. Very naked, and staring at him with rosy cheeks and glazed-over, lusty eyes. Craig decided he liked it.

He took Tweek's erection in one hand and tentatively licked at the tip. His reaction was encouraging to say the least. He took a further inch in and slowly started pumping with his hand.

The taste of him was strange. Warm and kind of salty, soft and hard at the same time, indescribable but intimately Tweek Tweak. Craig held Tweek's hip with his free hand and grew bolder. He figured out a rhythm between his hand and mouth, struggled to breathe and not use his teeth, but the gasping, jerking, moaning reactions he was provoking out of Tweek erased everything else from the world except for those sensations.

As he relaxed, he was able to take in more of Tweek and rub his tongue along his length. He built up speed, encouraged by Tweek's fingers winding into his hair, pulling slightly.

Tweek gasped Craig's name, telling him what was about to happen.

Tweek's face was divine, mouth a small, perfect O, cheeks pink and a thin film of sweat matting his hair down on his face.

They cleaned up the evidence, then crawled up into Craig's bunk bed.

"Stay over tonight?" he asked, snuggling his head into Tweek's shoulder.

"Sure. Let me text my mom."

He let Tweek reach for his phone, enjoying the look of concentration on his flushed post-coital, blissed-out face.

Craig laughed.

"What?"

"You've got sex hair."

"Shut up, so do you. Now come here," Tweek said, crawling towards Craig again. "I want to try that on you."

xxx

Craig woke up half way through the night to the sound of his mother vomiting.

Tweek was still beside him in bed, asleep on his stomach. Craig smiled and brushed the hair out of his face. Apparently they had found a cure for his chronic insomnia.

He stood gently and climbed down out of the bunk bed and walked to the bathroom. He stood in the doorway, watching her for a moment.

"What are you doing?"

She looked up at him with bloodshot eyes.

"Just some food poisoning Craig, go back to bed." Her words slurred badly.

"We both know that's a lie."

She spat and flushed.

"Have you told your dad?"

"No. I feel like that should be your job."

She stood, grabbing the wall for support, and sat down on the closed toilet lid.

"Speaking of jobs," he went on, "I couldn't help but notice you haven't been to yours all week."

She held her head in her hands, staring at the tile floor.

"Dad's gonna be home soon. And Ruby knows too. She's smarter than you give her credit for."

"God Craig, I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too," he said.


	12. Chapter 12

"Kick Drum Heart," Avett Brothers

xxx

Huge thank you to my readers/followers/reviewers… ESPECIALLY MidnightLuve and StyleCreekBunnyCrenny. I can't even explain how great everybody's reviews are.

xxx

The weeks without Craig's dad passed slowly.

On Tuesdays, Craig usually went to Tweek's house for dinner and afterwards they would watch a movie in the family living room and surreptitiously cuddle when his mom wasn't looking. The spotless Tweak house freaked Craig out more than a little. He was used to his own cluttered house where no one seemed to bother taking out the recycling, much less scrub the questionable hard water scum out of the insides of every drain pipe.

Wednesdays and Fridays Craig had to work, and Tweek worked in his parents' coffee shop Mondays and Thursdays, but they usually end up texting every evening until Craig falls asleep.

Fridays. Craig is starting to really love Fridays. Fridays are a haze of smoke, laughter, and confused conversations— in the park, on Craig's couch, at the movie theater, wandering the back-streets of South Park to Stark's Pond, even convincing Tweek to climb up the roof of the high school late one night.

"I love your room," Tweek said one lazy afternoon.

They were both lying on Craig's couch, Tweek settled against Craig's chest, Craig comfortably nestled into the corner, Tweek between his legs. The radio was playing quietly. They were both high, which was the only time Tweek could manage to quit his constant, anxious twitching. He didn't shake or scream so much anymore, like he used to when they were kids (not that Craig would really mind that, Tweek shaking and quivering in his arms…) but Craig could still read his stressed-out thoughts like his face was a book.

"Why?"

"I dunno. It's just… the essence of you. The smell, everything in it, Rosie. It's like you've imprinted yourself on the room. Or maybe vice versa. Do you think spaces have spirits?"

Tweek twists to look at him with bloodshot blue eyes when he asks this. Craig shrugs.

"Think about libraries. Not like the shitty one at school. I mean real libraries, with old books with probably a hundred years of fingers rifling through them. Places that would have a story to tell if they could talk."

"I dunno. I guess so."

Craig still doesn't understand Tweek. Tweek is at times a tiny turbo-powered mass of nerves, like a blonde squirrel on too much coffee. Other times the insomnia pulls him down into a state of barely-functioning lethargy. On these days, Craig takes him home for a smoke, and they fall asleep together, Tweek with a smile on his face.

Craig doesn't think he'll ever get tired of exploring Tweek's pale body, or of watching his calm face as they both fall asleep, or the way Tweek holds on to Craig harder if he has to wake up him up from a nightmare, or the way sometimes Tweek will suddenly look up at him and smile and Craig forgets what he was thinking about.

One Friday, Tweek showed up at the grocery store while Craig is working.

Craig didn't realize it was Tweek for several minutes. He never looks up if he can help it. Working the register is easily the worst part of his job. There are _people _who want his _attention. Ugh. _He just scans the items, takes the money, and moves on.

The load started out normal enough. Coffee beans. A few candles. A box of chocolates. Vaseline. Nylon rope, 100 yards. Duct tape, a jumbo pack of condoms, a cucumber.

Finally, Craig's curiosity got the better of him. What kind of sicko…?

Tweek was staring at him with barely concealed laughter. They both lost it, and Craig could feel the other cashiers glaring at them.

"What are you doing here?"

"Cheering you up?"

"Thanks. It's working."

"And setting the mood for later?"

Craig had to force himself not to laugh.

"Are you serious?"

"No! Well— Maybe a little. But only the…"

He gestured to the condoms. Butterflies flooded Craig's stomach. He knew they'd talked about it before, but he wasn't sure if he was ready for anything like that.

"Are you okay?" he asked, hoping for a change in subject. There was a blank sheen to Tweek's eyes.

Tweek shrugged. "I guess. I had that panic attack in Biology, you know. They sent me to the nurse's and they want to put me on this new anti-anxiety pill. I had to take it today, fucking shrink stood there staring at me until I took it."

"Does it work?"

Tweek laughed. "Of course it fucking works. I feel great. I even peed in your store's bathroom just now."

Craig tried to keep a straight face. The woman behind Tweek in line was eavesdropping. Tweek hated public restrooms.

"But you won't keep taking it?"

Tweek shrugged.

"I can't draw when I'm not myself."

"Excuse me, how much longer is this going to take?" The woman was losing her patience. She had at least a dozen boxes of frozen waffles in her cart.

"I'm helping this customer, ma'am."

"No, you're flirting with him. Some of us have places to be."

"Ma'am, if you don't appreciate my brand of customer service, then feel free to find another line."

Tweek nearly tripped over himself apologizing for Craig and exiting the stall, but still managed to wink non-subtly at Craig on his way out.

The last two hours and seventeen minutes of his shift were pure torture, and only partly because he had to deal with actual customers.

When their shifts were over, Red found him in the break room. She approached him with clear lack of respect for his personal bubble, and stuck her face in his with an expression that could melt steel.

"If you hurt him," she said, "I'll fucking kill you. Do you understand?"

"Whoa, calm down. Hurt who?"

"You know who I'm talking about. Tweek Tweak, my secret best friend, your secret boyfriend."

"Okay, okay. What's brings this on?"

"What do you think? Losing his virginity? To you?"

Tweek was apparently convinced he was losing his virginity tonight. Not that Craig didn't consider what they'd already been doing sex, but maybe Tweek didn't.

"Why do you think he had a panic attack in Biology?" she went on.

Guilt twisted at Craig. "What do I do?"

"You make sure he has a good time. And if you break his heart, I'll break _you_. I've been fighting against my linebacker of an older brother my entire life so don't doubt it for a minute."

"Okay, okay. I got it. Don't worry."

She stepped back and left with a final glare.

As crazy as she was, Craig thought Tweek was lucky to have Red.

xxx

"You know, we don't have to do this," Craig said.

Tweek was alone with Craig in Craig's room, both of them practically naked, on Craig's bed.

"Now, or… ever. I mean, if you don't want to. Not that I don't like— I mean, not that I don't want to, I just…"

Tweek smiled at Craig's flustered expression.

"Craig, it's okay," he said, interrupting. "I want to. I really want to."

"But what about the meds from earlier? Are you sure you're… you-enough?"

Tweek nodded. "They've worn off, but just enough that I'm still not freaking out about this."

They'd lit a few of the candles. The rest of his questionable groceries (minus the condoms) lay in a forgotten pile, but Craig had said he kind of liked the romanic lighting. Several buckets of water sat at key locations near each candle, at Tweek's insistence. Craig was eying each one in turn, avoiding Tweek's gaze.

The realization hit him. He sat down next to Craig, far enough away to look at him properly.

"You're nervous."

"What? No, I…"

"Craig. I'm the master of nervous. I'm nervous incarnate."

"Okay. I might be nervous. Whatever. Can we stop saying nervous?"

Tweek found his shirt shoved into the crease between bed and wall and pulled it back on, ignoring a half-hearted complaint from Craig. Emotions pulled at his gut—guilt mainly. Had he pressured Craig into this? What was he supposed to say? He'd never before had to be the stable, calm one in any situation. Ever. He took a deep breath, trying not to let the pressure get to him.

"We don't have to do this," Tweek said.

"No, I really do want to."

"I know. But that doesn't mean we have to do it right now."

Tweek pulled a blanket over them and nuzzled his body into Craig's sitting up against the headboard. He could feel Craig's slow breathing and the frantic beat of his heart through the flesh of his own back. He reached down to weave his fingers through Craig's, pulling their hands out in front of their bodies.

There was something about their hands that just matched. Tweek's slightly cigarette stained and bony, Craig's larger and warm, nails bitten down low, calluses rough in the best way. Perfectly imperfect.

"Tell me something I don't know about you," Tweek said. "And I'll tell you something back."

"What?"

"It's a trust exercise."

One he'd learned in group therapy, but still.

"Okay…"

"Here, I'll go first," Tweek said. "Sometimes when I feel like I'm about to have a panic attack, I go smoke a cigarette and listen to the Frozen soundtrack."

Craig laughed and squeezed Tweek's fingers slightly.

"That's adorable, but somehow doesn't surprise me all that much."

Tweek felt himself blushing.

"Okay, uh. My first kiss, in eighth grade with Annie Knitts—I missed. Like completely."

It was Tweek's turn to laugh, and Craig was blushing.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Lied to everyone about it too until I tried again a week later. Then she dumped me for Kenny who probably gave her a disease, so joke's on her."

"What's the worst lie you've ever told?"

Craig bit his lip, thinking. "I'm not sure."

"Sometimes I lie to my parents so they won't know how bad I'm doing."

"You mean…"

"Mentally. Yeah. It's all right though, I don't lie to my therapist. I just don't want them to worry about me."

There was a heavy pause, and Tweek could practically feel Craig thinking.

"My mom's an alcoholic—and she was in recovery for years, but she's drinking again now and I don't know what to do. I don't think my dad knows really, and it feels like I'm supposed to be the one to tell him."

"Oh. Wow."

Tweek could feel the tension peeling off Craig's body at the confession.

"It's not your responsibility, you know. To take care of… of anyone."

"I know. But… Sorry. Can we not talk about this?"

Tweek nodded. After a pause, when Craig seemed relaxed again, Tweek spoke again.

"Can I tell you something else?" he asked.

"What?"

"I think your hands are really sexy."

Craig laughed and leaned his head into the back of Tweek's neck. He took his hands out of Tweek's grip and ran them up his belly and chest under Tweek's shirt. Tweek jumped slightly at the sudden contact. His warm, rough hands. Tweek wanted them everywhere, all over his body.

"Yeah?" Craig said against the back of his neck, nearly at his ear. "Does this turn you on?"

Tweek whimpered, feeling the blood rush south. One of Craig's hands wandered below the waist line of his boxers.

Tweek peeled himself off Craig's back, practically ripping off his own shirt, and straddling Craig's hips. The beautiful hands went back to his hips, chest, and lower back.

Tweek smiled and leaned in to kiss him. Craig wound his fingers into Tweek's hair, using it as leverage to bury his tongue deeper into his mouth. Tweek moaned helplessly as he felt Craig's free hand at his hip tracing small circles with his thumb.

After a few minutes, Craig eased Tweek backwards. Tweek took off his boxers as Craig did the same with his own, trying not to tangle their limbs and clothes. Craig was wearing tight black boxer briefs, and Tweek's eyes were glued to the flat expanse of Craig's abs and the prominent curve showing through his underwear. The V of Craig's hips made Tweek's mouth go dry.

"See something you like?" Craig asked with a smirk.

Tweek smiled back, but before he could think of a response Craig was spreading his knees and pressing fingers to his entrance.

Tweek gasped. They'd done this part before a few times, but he never really got used to it. Craig was studying Tweek's ass, slowly pressing him open with the pad of his finger. Tweek watched Craig's face, entranced, until the lube was added— and suddenly it was two fingers, stretching and twisting.

Craig scooted back up on top of Tweek, and pressed kisses to his neck, cheek, lips.

"Last chance. Do we want to do this?"

Tweek stared up into Craig's face. Dark strands of hair fell, framing his face. His dilated pupils bore straight through Tweek to his core. Tweek shuddered and arched his back up into Craig's hovering form.

"Yes," he said, mumbling against the warm curve of Craig's shoulder.

Craig's fingers were still inside him, probing. Tweek licked and sucked down the side of Craig's neck exposed to him, enjoying the way Craig was breathing heavily and biting his bottom lip. Suddenly something in Tweek responded in a way he wasn't prepared for. Craig smiled deviously and kept it up, attacking Tweek's sweet spot and claiming Tweek's lips as he abandoned Craig's neck.

"Craig," Tweek said between kisses. "I- I need you…"

Craig nodded retreating briefly. Tweek watched him roll on a condom in flushed concentration, slathering on lube, feeling strangely calm. If only for a second.

Craig repositioned himself, a dirty glint in his eyes. The tip of Craig's penis pushed against Tweek's tight, hot entrance, circled around it. The teasing motion drove Tweek wild. He moaned, throwing his head back. Craig bent down and sucked at a vulnerable patch of his neck, one arm bent at the elbow to frame Tweek's face, the other holding his cock poised.

"Oh my god— Please, Craig," Tweek panted.

"I kinda like hearing you beg for it," Craig said against the skin of Tweek's neck, as he inserted the head of his cock into Tweek.

Tweek nearly lost it at the sensation of Craig inside his body. Of feeling filled entirely. Feeling completely possessed by this beautiful creature pressed close above him.

Craig slowly pushed in, gripping Tweek's hips. His face tilted, lips slightly parted, his face screwed up in concentration.

"Shit dude," Craig panted. "I'm not gonna last very long."

"That's fine," Tweek said. He honestly didn't expect much. This was all new, and there'd be other times- hopefully plenty of other times.

At first, there was nothing but burning pain. Tweek reached down and grabbed Craig's hand.

"Are you okay?" His voice was low, husky, beautiful.

He squeezed his eyes closed and nodded. For a while they stayed frozen like that, Craig part-way inside Tweek, Tweek gripping the life out of Craig's hand. Finally, Tweek let go and nodded.

Craig pressed his lips down to meet Tweek's, and slowly began moving, pulling out and pushing back in. It was agonizing, beautifully agonizing.

Craig took Tweek's hand in his again, this time gentle and firm. They awkwardly tried to find a rhythm as Craig got used to the motion, and suddenly Tweek realized that it felt _amazing, _beyond amazing. He tilted his hips to meet Craig's thrusts, and it felt like everything clicked into place, like their bodies were made for each other.

Tweek curled his fingers into Craig's hair, and Craig reached for Tweek's cock.

"I really- _ungh- _love that," Craig said.

"What?"

Tweek took advantage of Craig's face so close to his and ran his tongue over the shell of his ear, effectively erasing any answer from Craig.

Craig was losing control, coming undone. His hips slammed into Tweek faster, need growing. The dual sensations of Craig thrusting inside him and jerking him off were overpowering.

They came within seconds of each other. Craig pumped through his orgasm inside Tweek, holding him tight and pressing his lips to Tweek's neck, Tweek coming all over both their stomachs.

Craig flopped down beside Tweek, and for a long moment both of them laid there, sweaty and panting.

"Oh, gross," Tweek said, noticing the mess.

Craig, still flushed cheeks and pitch black eyes, hovered a few inches above Tweek on his elbows, and licked a spot of cum off Tweek's stomach.

The sound Tweek made after that could only have been recognized by one of his childhood gnomes, as the noise he made when he caught them red-handed with his last pair of underpants.

"Oh my god- _fuck- no, _do-on't."

"What?"

"I can't even right now."

"Can't even what? God, you're such a white chick."

"You're insatiable."

"Keep talking, you'll prove Clyde right."

"Don't remind me."

One shower later (with perhaps more time spent under the steam than was strictly necessary) they crawled under Craig's covers.

Tweek nestled his head into the pillow and his body firmly into Craig's. Craig held him with arms warm and secure around his waist.

Tweek heaved a deep, happy sigh, and decided this was probably his favorite spot on the planet.


End file.
